


The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates

by oxfordRoulette



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Blood and Violence, Dark Themes and Imagery, Diegetic Musical, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Familial Abuse, Found Family, Gallows Humor, Illustrated, M/M, Ruritanian romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-11-03 22:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 132,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxfordRoulette/pseuds/oxfordRoulette
Summary: Dirk and Vriska have it good. They raid ships, pillage merchant vessels, constantly poison each other, possess a lucrative pact with the Wind King, sing a lot of dope fuckin’ sea shanties, and captain a loveable crew of pirate scum. They’re ready to kick back, take it easy, and become the vile and revered scourge of the diamond trading line.Then they find someone in the water.





	1. The Pirate Ship Black Diamond

**Author's Note:**

> I made a joke about writing musical pirate adventures, and then I thought about it, and then oops it happened. Anyway, yeah, you read that tag right. This fic doubles as a sea shanty diegetic musical.
> 
> There's a link to whatever classic sea shanty tune I'm appropriating. If you are motivated, you can read the lyrics over the top of the "real" song. This shouldn't be a problem because on some of these the sea jargon/accent is nigh incomprehensible so it's basically an instrumental with some Certified British Or Irish Yelling(tm). And yes, you have to read the goddamn songs. They're important.
> 
> ALSO SORRY IT’S IN THIRD PERSON I HAVE TO WEAN MYSELF OFF OF SECOND.

Their hold was full to bursting with stolen cargo.

The crew of the _Black Diamond_ just pulled off their first successful ambush on the _Midnight Runner_ , a highly-secured merchant vessel which specialized in shipping custom ordered baubles to the noble classes of Derse. They had no idea what they’d find on the _Midnight Runner_ , it could have been anything from rare perfumes to a bunch of sharpened katanas to a billion exotic sex toys. On this run, it turned out to contain a metric fuckton of rare booze, and a hell of a lot of poisons that some duke or another was probably intending on assassinating an entire ballroom with. The _Black Diamond_ crew was collectively disappointed about the lack of exotic sex toys, but, well, you win some you lose some. 

They raided all the good parts, kept most of the _Midnight Runner_ crew alive, killed the ones that complained, and left them with barely enough food and drink to survive. The _Black Diamond_ hold was full of rations, fine clothes, poison, and alcohol, the finest Derse had to offer, and they were sailing their way back to the Velvet Court to fence it all for fame and profit.

Which meant they had a lot of free time and a whole slew of fine new "cordials" to try out. Vriska and Dirk sat in the captain's cabin and played their favorite game: Mixed Drink Mixtery.

Dirk swirled his drink around, observing how the liquid stuck to the glass, how viscous it was. He inhaled the scent, poising his hand all classy, like he was at a fancy party and tasting wine. It smelled like almonds, but he couldn't pick out anything else.

He took a sip. Extremely bitter, a little acidic, not too horrible. He'd put worse things in his mouth. He swallowed it, taking note of the aftertaste, the lack of burning in his throat. After a moment of thinking it over, he announced the flavor profile to Vriska.

"Sémillon base with an infusion of fresh water hemlock and wolf's bane, about a tablespoon of cyanide, and then some orange peel bitters sprinkled over the top in a pathetic attempt to throw me off. Is that all you've got, Serket? I didn't know you were so basic."

She wiggled her eyebrow. "You missed one."

Dirk frowned, despite his best attempts to maintain a poker face. Vriska's smile grew bigger. With as much stoicism as he could muster in the face of crushing self-disappointment, he said, "Your turn."

Vriska examined the glass, squinting her good eye and rotating it in the dim light, watching how the brown liquid shimmered. She held it close to her nose and snorted the fumes. The mere smell of it would have killed a normal human. And also most of the _Black Diamond_ crew. There was a reason none of them ever came down to the captain's cabin unless absolutely necessary.

She took a sip, then swallowed. She smacked her lips together. She hummed, thinking it over. She rattled off her guess like she had it pre-memorized. "Two jiggers of shitty rum with sandbox tree sap --which you sugared, how precious!-- and that gunk from the upas tree, and some shoe polish, and a generous handful of the arsenic powder we got from robbing that bitchy countess with the peg leg."

Dirk sighed. "Correct."

Vriska jumped to her feet, cackling, knocking her chair over in the process. She swung around her hook hand with reckless abandon. "Get fucking bent! I win this round, scrublord! Who's the poison master now, baby!? Ahhhhhhhh hahahahahahahaha!"

Dirk tried not to feel sore about losing. "What did I miss?"

"The goop from that golden poison frog some idiot had as a pet," said Vriska, calming down. She set her drink on the dresser behind her. "I only added a couple drops, since that's what it takes to kill normal plebs."

Dirk raised an eyebrow. He'd have to sneak into her cabin and sample some of the pure essence later, so he'd never fail this taste test ever again. "I thought we were saving the frog slime for Feferi's dart gun."

"How else was I gonna win!? You gotta throw some tactical surprises in the mix or else you're always going to lose," she said, proudly. She shifted, started digging in one of her many pockets for something. "Besides, it was either the froggy slime or this cool new thing I found on the _Midnight Runner,_ and I decided to be nice and _not_ test the mysterious red liquid on you."

She pulled a long, thin glass vial from her coat. The bottle was fashioned like a stiletto, with a raven-shaped glass stopper attached to a rubber cork. A gold chain made from small skull charms wound around the top for extra security. The liquid inside was a dark red, brighter than blood but less crimson than a rose. The glasswork and jewelery appeared incredibly expensive, and considering the state of the _Midnight Runner,_ Dirk would put the price of whatever was in this vial at a hefty 10,000 crowns. Although he'd need a Velvet Court appraiser to confirm that.

"Did you give it a whiff?" asked Dirk, who had never seen a poison of that color. He didn't doubt it was poison, the gothic packaging screamed, 'Whoever Drinks This Liquid Shall Be Sent On A One Way Boat To The Isle Of The Dead.'

"Yeah, it smelled like literally nothing," said Vriska, shrugging. She turned away from Dirk and placed the vial in a tube rack, on a shelf with some other liquid poisons. "I figured we could test it out on the next rude fuckface we capture who dares insult us."

She whipped around and grinned at Dirk, wild-eyed. "Or, you know, I could sneak it into your next drink? Whatever works, right?"

Dirk made a mental note to steal the vial from her at the next possible opportunity. Should be easy, he came down here a lot.

She plucked her poison mixer from the dresser, and held it to Dirk in a toast. He joined her, clinked his cocktail to hers. They took another sip. Then they exchanged glasses, tapped them together again, threw their heads back, and chugged the rest.

Dirk had something of a sweet tooth, so he always tried to make his own concoction dessert-like. He intended this drink to taste like maple syrup, but it ended up going down like melted rubber with a dash of cinnamon. He swallowed it all anyway. He was great at swallowing.

There was a knock at the hatch, then Sollux's voice lisping loudly though the ceiling. "Ship spotted, starboard, like thirty two sea miles out. Don't know the colors and we're too bloated to rob the thing, but you guys should come up here anyways. This one's a badass war galleon and I'm pissing myself just looking at it."

Vriska and Dirk shrugged at each other, and Dirk gestured at the ladder. Ladies first. Vriska ironically curtsied with her oversized pirate coat, then climbed up and out of the captain's cabin, the trapdoor slamming shut behind her. Dirk followed, climbed the few rungs to the heavy hatch, pushed it open with a grunt. He had no idea how Vriska managed to get that thing open with her weak twiggy arm.

The hatch to the captain’s cabin was nestled astern, right in front of the tiller. The _Black Diamond_ was too small to have a ship’s wheel, so she used a gigantic steering stick to move the rudder. The only two crew members strong enough to move it by themselves for long periods of time were Equius and Dirk, the former currently at the helm. Dirk waved as he climbed out of Vriska’s cabin, and Equius saluted in reply.

The weather deck was flat, containing no upper deck or tiered levels. It was stuffed to the brim with fishing gear, sailing equipment, extra ropes, and canons ready to be loaded. The compact size and sheer clutter made it hard to move around on occasion, especially if all nine of the crew members were topside at the same time, but the petiteness of the ship often worked to their advantage. It was one of the reasons Vriska hadn’t bumped up the size of the _Black Diamond._

There was one mast and one bowsprit, each of which held multiple sails. The mainsail was this humongous monstrosity that took nearly all their manpower to raise, and had a bonus topsail and topgallent to help its push-power. The bowsprit held a jib, a flying jib, and a staysail. It seemed like overkill, but the setup was what made the _Black Diamond_ the scourge of the Prospit-Derse Diamond Trade Line. They were so fucking fast that if they decided to ambush somebody, the opposing crew only had a minute or two to prepare.

Oh, and the _Black Diamond_ also had a slight supernatural boon. They seduced the god who could control the winds and weather. With the Wind King’s power, they could have been in a rowboat and still had the advantage.

Everybody was topside, all but Equius gathered starboard to peer at the void-black warship on the bright afternoon horizon. Dirk scooted in between Karkat and Roxy, who handed him a spyglass to peer through. Dirk focused it, finding the colors of the galleon atop their mainsail. Their flag was red, with white diagonal stripes, and notched in the center. It was the only colors she flew, and Dirk couldn’t tell if it was a signal flag or the symbol of an unknown vessel. It wasn’t from anywhere in Prospit or Derse, that was for sure.

She was painted pitch black, with intricate decorations on each deck level, but the spyglass couldn’t focus well enough for Dirk to see what the patterns depicted. He counted fifteen sails on her, with three masts. She had at least five decks, maybe more. Dirk estimated she could hold six hundred people. He saw a couple hundred scurrying around up top, although his view was too small to pick out their features or what they were doing. 

She wasn’t a merchant ship, that was for sure. She looked like the flagship in a naval fleet, about to declare war, although there were no other ships in the vicinity. He lowered the spyglass.

Roxy whistled, loudly. “I’m counting 75 guns on that beautiful babe. I wonder where she’s going? I’d love to see what she’s got on board…”

“I am thanking my lucky fucking stars we are full up,” grumbled Karkat. “Otherwise you cavalcade of morons would try to attack it right this minute, and then we’d finally and mercifully die the horrible deaths we deserve.”

“Ugh, gods, that thing is a beast,” said Vriska, squinting at it. “I mean, not that I don’t think we could kick her ass, we’d just have to wait for nighttime and have John call a hurricane and-”

The galleon exploded.

Everyone’s mouths dropped open. A full-blown orange and red mushroom cloud bloomed on the horizon, all the guns and black wood and supplies and people shot into the air in tiny, far-away flecks. Fire and smoke and gas plumed into the sky like a growing flower. It took a couple seconds for the sound wave to hit them, the crunching slam of wood and gunpowder. It took thirty more seconds for the _physical_ wave to hit them, a roar of hot wind and water that rocked the _Black Diamond_ in a violent burst. The crew latched themselves to the handrails, crouching low and ignoring the water that lapped over the weather deck and sprayed their clothes. Equius stayed strong at the helm, forcing the rudder still, and the boom of the mainsail swung to port over their heads. The ship rocked to a slow halt, then steadied. Carefully, the crew peeked their heads over the rail.

Besides for wafts of smoke emerging from where the ship exploded, and the occasional piece of debris plopping into the water, all was still. Dirk and Roxy exchanged glances, confused as to what could have caused an explosion of that size. “Well, that was fucking weird,” said Sollux, helpfully. Dirk had to agree.

Something shimmered from across the water, like a survivor was flashing a mirror to catch the light. It looked like a distress signal. Dirk whipped out his spyglass and tried to zoom in on the source, but he didn’t see anybody. All he saw were still blue waters, smoke, a shit ton of floating wood, and the light flickering from behind what he thought was a barrel.

“There might be someone alive,” he announced. “Can’t tell.”

Vriska shrugged. “Let’s head over there anyway. Take a look, save some waterlogged sap, be the swashbuckling heroes, etcetera etcetera.”

“But the tide’s not with us!” said Feferi, leaning over the rail to peer down at the sea. “And we’ve got a beam wind! They might drown by the time we get over there!”

Dirk bit his lip. Vriska looked at Feferi like she just woke her up during a very good dream. Vriska slid her hand down her cheek, stretching her lower lid out, regretting what she was about to do. She groaned, took a moment to steel herself, then threw her head back towards the sky and bellowed, “JOOOO-OOOOHN!”

A gentle breeze ruffled Dirk’s hair. A small twister formed on the ship centerline, drying the deck of seawater. The sails remained unaffected by the tornado, but the winds of all directions swirled together in tufts of air until a cloud formed. It burst, and there floated the Wind King, one of the four great pirate gods of the seas.

“Hi friends!” he said, chipper. “What’s up?”

Vriska pointed with her hook towards the dying reams of smoke, far off on the horizon. “A ship exploded and we need to rescue somebody, probably. See that signal light? Take us over there ASAP.”

He winked, giving her a thumbs up. “Can do! Do I get anything fun in return?”

Vriska stared dead-eyed at John for a long two seconds, then tilted her head towards Dirk. Dirk threw his arms up in a shrug, accepting his fate. It was his turn anyway. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have fun with this ‘chore.’

She looked straight at John, then announced, “Anal.”

John pumped his fist, hissing out a “Yes!” Most of those within earshot dissolved into incoherent cackling. Karkat buried his face in his palms. 

“I’m using your bed, Serket,” said Dirk, firing back. “And I’m not changing the sheets.”

“Great, I’ve always wanted a waterbed!”

“Ha ha, gross! Anyway, let’s get this show on the road!” said John, twirling like a dancer. His draping veils swirled around him, the colors blending into a gorgeous sea green. He flew up and to the stern, hovering over the very edge of the _Black Diamond._

They knew the drill by now. Most everyone tied themselves to a rail or got their back up against something solid. Dirk chose to sit by one of the twenty four pound cannons he personally secured to the gun port. Aradia took a detour down to the hold to grab her instrument of choice, then assumed her usual spot. She sat with her back against the sturdy mainmast. Equius stayed at the till, planting himself so the speed of the boat would not knock him over.

“Equius, you ready buddy?” called John.

“Yes, my king,” he said, saluting.

“Everybody else?”

“Yeah,” replied Vriska, Dirk, Roxy, Karkat, Nepeta, Sollux, and Feferi. 

“And Aradia!”

Aradia held up her guitar, making sure John could see it around the mainmast. “Ready!”

“Play me out! Diamond tune, D minor A minor F C and B flat when you feel the time is right!”

Aradia, bless her heart, began to shred some sick fucking jams on her old, peeling guitar.

John bobbed his head side to side, in time with the beat. He always did this kind of improv song shit whenever they had to sail anywhere. As far as Dirk could figure, John used the music to time his movements with the actions of the boat. And he maybe enjoyed singing a little _too_ much. It was probably because he got to make light-hearted jabs at the crew. He was certainly a trickster god. Albeit a kind-hearted one.

_to the tune of Bonnie Ship The Diamond_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/6OTqGMyQ909vcZskvyFb9N)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bk2nIrZV-9w)]

* * *

Black Diamond is a ship, my friends  
For the warship wreck we’re bound  
I spy just one lone survivor  
A-waiting to be found  
Captain Serket gives the order  
To sail the ocean wide  
With my wind at your backs, my friends  
I’ll fight against the tide

_(Chorus)_  
_And it’s cheer up my friends_  
_Let your hearts never fail_  
_For the pirate ship Black Diamond_  
_Was dealt the strongest gales_

Inside the bar at Queens Island  
We met while playing dice  
They lost but I really liked them  
And their blow job skills are nice  
Got best head in centuries  
And they have great behinds  
I’ll trade ass to call the winds for them  
Until I change my mind

_(Chorus)_

Here’s to me getting lots of choice poontang  
Unlike my fellow kings  
I think Rose straight up fucks octopi  
And uh Dave? Can eat shit  
I wish I could find my sister  
I think she’s still around  
I want to gloat my sweet conquests  
I know that they’ll astound

_(Chorus)_

It’ll be bright both day and night  
On return to Velvet Court  
With a hull that’s full of gold, my friends  
Galleon loot is grand  
The crew will purchase lots of whores  
Because they’re super repressed  
But Dirk and Vriska are stuck with me  
The curse of being blessed

_(Chorus)_

_(Chorus)_

| 

He burst into song once Aradia finished the intro. He shut his eyes, rocked out a little as he sang, complete with stupid mid-air dance. He swung his arm around, like winding up for a pitch. He posed, pointing towards the flickering, shimmering spot on the horizon. Dirk heard the roar of winds rushing over miles of sea to heed their king’s command.

The ship lurched forward as the winds hit the mainsail, and Dirk clung to the cannon to steady himself. John twirled his finger in the air in little circles, and the boom swung hard to starboard over their heads.

So as not to capsize the ship, John jibed the boat with short gusts of wind from a clockwise direction. With Equius’ help at the helm, they turned the ship towards the smoke on the horizon much faster than normal. The boom swung to center line, and the sails were full to bursting with wind.

John hurled his arms back, then threw them forward, spreading his palms out towards the _Black Diamond._ A galestorm slammed into the sails. Dirk was thrown against the cannon with the sheer g-forces applied. The boat nearly flew, skipping over the water, reaching speeds that other pirates could only dream about. John hovered over the helm, floating with the ship effortlessly.

Although the wind screamed in his ears, Dirk could still hear Vriska groan at John’s lyrics. Dirk had to agree. The ditty lacked a base accuracy. _Dirk_ was the only one with godtier blowjob skills. Not Vriska. She just happened to be really, really good at shimmying.

As far as he could figure, they were the only people who ever managed to accomplish the bizarrely easy feat of seducing a god. Dirk always wondered why nobody ever tried to sex the pirate gods into servitude. It seemed like the obvious choice, really.

Although admittedly, the Sea King and the Dead King were impossible to contact barring _extreme_ methods, and the Star King was missing in action. John seemed the most human/alive out of the four. It was probably only due to Vriska’s incredible luck that they ran into him at all.

The light on the horizon grew closer and closer, still looking like something shiny reflecting the sun. Dirk was pinned too tight to the gun to use the spyglass, but his initial impression seemed correct: it was coming from behind an intact, floating barrel. 

As they approached, the light dimmed, like a mirage. When they were close enough to plow through the outer spread of floating debris, the light vanished. John slowed the _Black Diamond,_ pulling his arms back in time with the beat as though beckoning someone. The wind decreased to a normal speed, then reversed direction, the ship stuck in the irons.  
  
---|---  
  
John bowed, his song over, and Aradia finished her stanza. Everyone clapped. He cut down a half hour trip to roughly two minutes.

The crew unlatched themselves from their spots, shaking their limbs out. Dirk fixed his hair, which got tousled in the wind. The _Black Diamond_ coasted over still waters, breaking a board here and there as it drifted towards where the signal once was.

John brought the _Black Diamond_ to a standstill, a short swim away from the barrel where the light originated. Dirk hoped John was keeping track of which one they sailed to, there were a metric fuck ton of barrels floating around. Although most were broken or burnt. The one they were looking at was suspiciously intact.

The debris was scattered all across the water, spread out from the force of the explosion. Around the _Black Diamond_ floated broken wood, burnt crates, roasted and inedible food, hundreds of hats and shoes covered in ash, and bloody body parts from a wide array of limbs. Dirk found it hard to believe someone survived this mess.

He gestured towards the barrel he thought the light originated from. “Time for a swim. Someone ready a lifeline for me.”

Dirk cast off his shoes, hakama, and kimono, folding them and setting them on a dry part of the deck. This left him naked, but the crew had been around each other long enough that nobody gave a shit about nudity or ogled him. Well, nobody cared about _Dirk’s_ nudity, anyway. Seeing Vriska naked was like a hellish punishment Dirk was forced to endure for being a lawless career pirate, and he did everything in his power to not increase his misfortune. Other than that, everyone was way too chill with the nudes. And he figured that whoever he might rescue wouldn’t care that someone in their birthday suit was doing so, and if they _did_ care then he'd leave them to drown in the fucking ocean. 

He tied the lifeline rope around his waist, then climbed over the rail at the bow of the ship. The _Black Diamond_ was so weighed down with loot that the water level was at his waist when hanging down from the rail, and he let himself sink into the warm ocean tide. He always liked going for a swim. He’d just have to avoid all the severed legs floating around.

He swam towards the intact barrel, and approached it from the side. From a lower angle, he could see that there was, indeed, a person hanging off it. On the backside of the barrel, he could see someone’s head lolled against the wood, above the water.

“Hey,” Dirk called back towards the boat. “I think there’s someone here.”

He kicked out, not waiting for a response, and sped towards the possible survivor. He got there quick, not wanting to waste time, and tred water in front of the man on the barrel.

The guy was either unconscious or dead. He was not above water due to any strength of his own. He was saved by his thick, black, velvet choker which caught around the metal rim of the barrel and suspended him out of the water. His mouth was parted. His eyes were shut, he had huge dark eyelashes. He had a ridiculous amount of ear piercings. His skin was pallid and sickly, either because he was a corpse or because he came from a rich family with no need to labor outdoors. His hair was black and smooth, like a pool of oil, and Dirk gave into temptation and slid his fingers through it. It was as soft as it looked.

This could not be real. This guy was _too gorgeous,_ it had to be some kind of karmic joke. He had a goddamn beauty mark for gods’ sakes.

Dirk unhooked the choker from the barrel and held the body, kicking hard to keep them both afloat. From what he could see, the man’s clothes were in tatters, as expected from surviving an explosion. But the skin beneath was perfect. No scratches, no burns, no nothing. Dirk could feel the man’s legs and other bits against him, so it wasn’t like he was just holding a severed torso. Weird. Really fucking weird.

Dirk counted the piercings. About seven on each ear, snakebites on his lips, and the kind that went through the bridge of the nose. Through the slight gaping of his mouth, Dirk counted three tongue piercings, all in a line. The man probably sounded like someone rattling a silverware drawer when he walked around. Dirk was surprised this guy wasn’t a walking infection. 

He also wore large gold gauges. Was that the source of the distress signal? Dirk tilted the man’s head side to side, but the sun didn’t reflect well off the slightly dirty discs. 

He had a pair of square glasses, which seemed in good condition. They were attached by a dorky chain around the back of his neck, which explains how they survived the explosion. Dirk tried reflecting the light off the glass, but that didn’t work well either. They were way too filthy.

“Hey,” yelled Feferi, from the ship. “Is he alive?”

Oh, right. Dirk placed his hand beneath the man’s nose and over the open mouth, waited a little. There was no airflow. He pressed his fingers to the pulse point on his neck, but felt nothing there either. He flipped the man over on the barrel and —after taking note of the nipple piercings, _what the fuck—_ put his ear to the man’s chest. He waited for a while, but he was certain there was no hint of a heartbeat. 

“He’s dead,” Dirk replied. “But I’ll bring him back. He’s decked out in gold.”

There were a few cheers from the more money-happy members of the crew. They might not have gotten to play swashbuckling hero, but at least they got some extra jewelry to fence. Dirk kept the body on the barrel, and pushed the makeshift raft back to the boat. 

Equius and Feferi helped pull Dirk and the corpse onto the deck of the _Black Diamond._ John, who was as curious as the rest of them, dried Dirk off with a strong gust of wind. He put his kimono and obi back on —the arm with his tattoo exposed, as per usual— then rejoined the group. They laid the body flat on his back, clearing a small spot on the deck for all nine of the crew (and one god) to gather in a circle around him.

He wore a wet, white outfit. A wet, white outfit in tatters. What remained of it stuck to his skin with vacuum-tight perfection. Dirk could see all of it. Everything below his head was completely hairless. _Everything._ The man looked like he was born to be oiled up by a harem of beautiful co-eds.

There was a collective wince of painfully constrained lust when they all saw his dick was pierced. In three places. Nepeta nearly bit through the back of her own hand.

“Hey, he kind of reminds me of my sister,” said John, hovering about a foot off the deck.

“Your sister had a Prince Albert?” asked Vriska, dryly.

“No! What? Oh, jeez, guys, I wasn’t even looking at that,” huffed John. “I meant that he kind of… smells like her? Not that I huffed Jade or whatever but that’s what I’m getting! It’s really weird.”

“I don’t know about that, but he kind of looks like mew!” chirped Nepeta, drying off the back of her hand.

“You think?” said John, surprised. “He’s got too much hardware, I can’t tell.”

“Are you sure he’s dead?” whined Roxy, fanning herself. “Can’t we try some CPR or somethin’? Please?”

"I'd like to volunteer my life giving lips too," said Sollux, raising his hand.

It was a well known _Black Diamond_ fact that everyone was constantly down to fuck any new face within the first thirty seconds of meeting them. This was due to the inherent blue ball factor of their camaraderie: the crew had known each other for so long that, at this point, if someone had an inter-ship affair it was as awkward as banging your cousin.

Aradia knelt down and performed the same test that Dirk did. No breath, no pulse, but she lingered listening to his chest. She sighed, “Aww, lame. I think I hear a beat.”

Dirk supposed he could have misheard, surrounded by the white noise of the ocean. Still, he wasn’t breathing. If there was a beat, but no pulse, he wouldn’t last very long. Roxy clapped her hands, then rubbed them together like she was trying to start a fire. “Oh, that’s great news baby, it’s CPR time!”

The body jolted, as though struck by lightning. Color burst into the corpse’s cheeks. His eyes snapped open, but they were rolled all the way back, so only the whites showed. Aradia yelped, and scrambled out of the way as the body jerked into a sitting position. He wheezed, animated, almost like something was forcing him to do so. Water poured from his mouth. It grew into genuine wheezing, then coughing, and the man toppled forward in a fit, on his hands and knees. It became clear the corpse was no longer dead. 

Dirk was too stunned to do anything. There was _no way_ that guy was alive. Roxy pulled a couple crew members back in order to give him some space. Equius took three huge steps backwards to avoid getting water on his boots. Karkat glared at the sky, as though cursing creation for forcing him to witness this weird resurrection. 

"Gi permezzino!" sputtered the man, once the coughing subsided. Water trickled down his chin and onto the deck. "Bienedo gratico si perffeniano, se patrefisa becochi campo!"

There was a beat of silence.

“What the fuck? What kind of language is that?” Vriska asked. She looked around at the rest of her crew. Everyone threw up a shrug or shook their heads. Even John, a fucking _god,_ didn’t know what language it was. Dirk certainly never heard anything like it. 

The man sat up, shaking his head back and forth. When he opened his eyes, his irises shone a pretty emerald green. He dried his glasses off on a pitiful scrap of his shirt, then put them on.

He swiveled towards Vriska, opening his mouth. He snapped it shut when he laid eyes on John, floating over the deck. He gaped at John, like he was frightened, then eyed the rest of the crew. Dirk thought it was a, ‘Are you guys seeing this!?’ kind of look.

He frowned. He bit his lip, chewing on it with the cutest gapped front teeth Dirk had ever seen. He mulled something over. Sounding unsure, he said, "La pamo se letrifitrona?"

"Do you understand us?" asked Feferi, who stepped forward and knelt to his level.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Feferi smiled, patiently, and patted her chest. "My name's Feferi. Feferi."

It took him a second, but he got it with a grin.

"Vi! Vi! Jake. Se pamo si Il Ripato English a patra Harley Jake." He gestured at his chest, harder. "Jake."

"Jake," said Feferi, holding out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Jake!"

He understood what a handshake was, at least. Although he doubled up on it, enthusiastically cupping her hand with both of his and pulling her closer to him to complete the gesture. Feferi didn’t mind at all.

Dirk didn’t know if this guy was a miraculous recovery or had some kind of blessing from the Dead King. A priest of his, maybe? Either way, this was the weirdest day Dirk had in years.

Introductions soon followed with the rest of the crew. Jake went about it with alarming enthusiasm, considering he nearly died. He shook everyone’s hand, learned their names, babbled at them in whatever mystery language he spoke, and ignored the blatant lecherous glances the entire crew gave him. He came to Dirk last. He shook Dirk’s hand, so strongly that Dirk felt the vibrations of it in his goddamn intestines, and Dirk gave Jake his name.

"Hello, Dirk. Hello," he said, using the new vocab word he picked up in the introductions. Dirk liked his accent, but didn’t attempt to tell him so. 

His eyes kept flicking to Dirk's tattoos, nervously. Dirk figured they might mean something evil in Jake's culture. Although as well traveled as he was, Dirk never had a problem with them-- most of them were just cool pictures imbibed with personal meaning. The monsters were the only thing that might possibly startle Jake, but the images originated from his own heritage, not... wherever the fuck Jake was from.

Jake leaned against the rail, and looked around the cramped deck of the _Black Diamond,_ with interest. 

“Es vic se la metroventi petrunico va?” He blinked, like he forgot they couldn’t speak his language, then gestured fervently at the sails, the equipment scattered around, at Dirk, then at Vriska. “Vic! Vic! Va es la? Va?”

Dirk thought he was asking what the ship was for. “We’re pirates,” he stated. “Pirates.”

Jake stared at him. Vriska took up the charade game. “You know, pirates?” She waved her hook hand around, and drew her cutlass, got in a defensive position. She lowered her voice, adopting a corny accent. “Arrrrrrrrr, ye scurvy wench, to the gallows with ye!”

“Pirates!” Jake gasped, in total wonder. He clapped his hands to his cheeks, stars in his eyes. “Hello!”

Dirk could sense the size of Vriska’s ego ballooning out of proportion. She sheathed her sword, a proud grin smeared across her face.

“Yeah,” she said, unable to contain her smile. “We’re pirates.”


	2. Rolling Down The Diamond Line

Two weeks to the Velvet Court. They had to do _something_ with him before dumping him off in the pirate hold. They tried to put him to work, but despite his fitness level and general go-getter attitude, he couldn’t do any of it. He failed at polishing, sewing, fishing, sweeping… Even swabbing the deck confounded him; he clearly never worked a day in his life. Dirk figured he was some sort of noble. Rich and pompous.

However, nobody was pissed about Jake’s incompetency; it meant he had more time to stand around and be eye candy. He was very, very good at being eye candy. Every gesture, every position his body moved to was picture-perfect, like he was trained to be a model for figure drawing. Although he tended towards the overdramatic with some of his poses.

They gave him a job fetching stuff from the hold: rations, water, weapons, etc. He seemed to enjoy doing this, because, quote, “Pirates! Waow!” He was quick to pick up on new vocab, and good at waiting on people. Weirdly good.

Dirk leaned against the mainmast and watched him pour Feferi and Nepeta some tea. He didn’t spill a drop. The constant rocking of the ship as it sailed north did nothing to throw him off.

Dirk had so many questions. Why did Jake come with a matching velvet choker and anklets? Why was he wearing a toe ring? Who the hell wears a toe ring? Why did he pick out a bustled skirt instead of pants? Why wasn’t he wearing shoes? Who the fuck gave him that oversized shirt? And why the fuck was Jake not buttoning the thing?

He wished Jake would button it. Dirk could not stop staring at Jake’s goddamned nipples. Is that what piercing did to them? They were erect and pert around the clock? God, he wanted to give ‘em a pinch. Just a quick pinch. He was so tempted.

“Okay,” said Roxy, popping up next to him. Dirk jerked to attention, but Roxy didn’t seem to notice she surprised him. She clapped him on the shoulder. “We taught him the words ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ and ‘stop,’ which translate respectively to ‘vi,’ ‘ba,’ and ‘icci.’ Do you think it’s ethical to fuck him now? Please say yes please say yes please say yes-”

“I don’t know, does he even want it?” asked Dirk, gesturing towards Jake. “I mean, both Nepeta _and_ Sollux tried to put some moves on him and he deflected. Nepeta made him tea and everything. Who the fuck would pass up Nepeta?”

“Maybe he thought it was super grody tastin’! Didn’t she tell you? We found out he’s a tea snob.”

Dirk turned to Roxy, raising an eyebrow. “Is he.”

“Yeah, he insists on mixin’ his own brew from the dried flowery herbal shit we got from the _Midnight Runner,”_ she said. She elbowed him in the side. “And it’s real good too! If you get a chance, do take tea with him. And I don’t just mean the teabags.”

Dirk took a moment to collect himself. “Roxy. That was the worst ball joke I’ve ever heard.”

She winked at him, then darted away, down the main hatch to the hold. She was probably making lunch for everyone— she was de facto cook due to her insane chemistry and herbalism skills. 

Jake glided over ropes and other junk to attend to Vriska. She sat at the bow of the ship, legs dangling around the bowsprit, the fresh sea wind blustering through her hair, maps weighted to her lap with a big rock. She was attempting to chart the journey Jake’s boat might have taken. Jake couldn’t help at all, they showed him their maps and tried to get him to point out where he was from, but he apparently had no idea. The usually talented Sollux failed to chart out a good hypothesis, so Vriska was giving it a shot.

Jake poured her a cup of tea. She took it, blew on it, and sipped it. She twisted around, gestured for Dirk to come over.

“Have I told you how much I like having a domesticated waiter bitch boy on board?” she said, raising her tea towards Dirk. “I think we should keep him.”

Dirk stood between Jake and Vriska and folded his arms. “Impractical. It’s fine when we’re literally loaded to the brim with supplies, but think of the times we’re stretched thin. He can’t do anything besides carry shit and look cute.”

Jake’s gaze flickered between Vriska and Dirk, wide-eyed and vapid. Vriska sighed, dramatically. “Ugh, you’re such a Debbie Downer. Well, we should enjoy him while we’ve got him! Would you escort him to my cabin and make sure he doesn’t kill himself?”

Dirk raised an eyebrow. “Why.”

“He needs to grab a vanilla bean. At least that’s what I _think_ he wants, he drew a big black curve and we played pirate!Pictionary until I guessed it. I keep them with the poisons because I don’t want Lalonde experimenting with them. Shit’s expensive!”

Jake perked up at a word he understood. “Vanilla? Tea. Tea for pirates, yes yes.”

“Is fetching a vanilla bean really worth the chance of him poisoning himself?”

“Hell yeah it is!” said Vriska, who then proceeded to chug the rest of her tea. She swallowed it all, gasping, then said, “You should try his concoctions sometime, it’s like the one thing he does right!”

Dirk sighed, and beckoned for Jake. Jake set the teapot and tray down in a safe cranny of the bow, then accompanied Dirk to the cabin’s hatch. Dirk lifted it for him, not expecting Jake to be able to do it by himself, and Jake descended the ladder. Dirk followed, and found Jake immediately examining the shelves full of poison behind Vriska’s dresser. 

None of the bottles were labeled. All of them were identifiable only by shape and color, organized by the objectively insane system Vriska and Dirk crafted for themselves. Jake plucked a sealed jar from the highest shelf and held it up to the light, to examine the powder within.

“Uh, hey, dude. That’s cyanide,” said Dirk. Realizing he should probably emote so Jake could understand him, he called out with more alarm. “Stop, no. No. No!”

Jake understood the word ‘no,’ at least, and set the jar back on the shelf. He stared at Dirk, and without breaking eye contact, picked up another random jar.

“And that’s chlorine powder. Seriously, put that down. Stop it. No. No no no.” Dirk felt like he was scolding a dog.

Jake put it down. Then immediately snatched up a bottle from behind Vriska's bed, this one with an orange glass stopper. Okay, now Jake was just messing with him.

“And that is my distilled essence of liquid manliness I swallow monthly, which won’t kill you but will give you a soothing baritone voice and _will_ kill your pretty boy look,” Dirk said. “Also the herbs are out of season so I’d appreciate it if you set that down. Stop stop no no yadda yadda.”

Jake set it down. Dirk made the four steps it took to cross the entire length of the cabin, then swatted Jake’s hand before he could grab another bottle. Jake giggled. Dirk wondered if his attitude would change if he knew he held deadly poisons.

Dirk moved a couple pillows aside on Vriska's bed and reached across the mattress. He found the jar containing a couple vanilla beans, and handed it to Jake. Jake turned it over in his hands, his eyes glinting like he was scheming.

“Impetrivantio,” muttered Jake. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Dirk, glad the chore was over with. Dirk eyed the unknown red poison that Vriska placed in the tube rack a couple days ago, but decided not to swipe it. He didn’t know if Jake would attempt to tattle on him or not. He moved away, towards the ladder, expecting Jake to follow him.

“Ah, uh,” stammered Jake, holding his hands out in a wait motion. “Er, uh, la pamo si vidico na pirate friend bintrochi vec? Where?” 

Dirk narrowed his eyes, his hand on the ladder. He had no fucking clue what Jake was trying to ask.

“Where? Pirate friend? Uh,” Jake hesitated, then whistled with a few short spurts. Like he was imitating the sound of the wind.

“Oh, John? You’re asking about John. Where’d he go, right?”

Jake nodded encouragingly, then repeated, “Where did he go? John?”

“Fuck if I know, he just shows up when we ask for him or when he wants to raw dog me,” said Dirk, deadpan, knowing Jake couldn’t understand. Jake furrowed his brow, probably trying to translate the sentence. There was no way Dirk was conveying that through pantomime. What would that even involve? Probably a lot of pointer fingers going into OK signs.

Dirk waved his hand, groaning, and gave the bare minimum of an explanation. He was not equipped for teaching. “Whatever. He left. Bye bye. He’ll return sometime, probably.”

“Yes okay,” said Jake, unsure. “Yes yes.”

Over the next two weeks, Dirk grew more and more enamored with the body of their mysterious “domesticated waiter bitch boy.” Dirk’s thoughts drifted away from the important things: what language he spoke, why his ship exploded, where he was from, how the fuck he managed to come back from the dead… and instead focused on the truly inane: how silky smooth his hair was, his gorgeous physique he showed off at every opportunity, that beauty mark on his right cheek, those pert pierced nipples.

It was a slow descent into lust. Dirk didn’t know when he went from judgy ogling to longing glances. But it was horrible. He went from staring at Jake’s chest to staring at his elegant wrists, his dexterous fingers, the line of his neck behind that black choker, his bare shoulders when his shirt would slip, the line of his back in the moonlight. By the end of their journey, he wanted to fuck Jake _so bad,_ but Jake didn’t seem interested in sexual activity with any of them. Not even Nepeta, the hottest catch on the diamond line.

So what chance did Dirk have? Dirk never attempted to talk to him past barking random fetch quests at him. Jake’s lack of Common scared him. Dirk was horrible at being patient and helpful with language learners. Usually he’d be the one to try and learn the foreign language himself, but having heard nothing like it and not knowing what country it originated from made him too anxious to attempt it.

He was on the graveyard shift for the till on the second to last night before they reached the Velvet Court, so he was trying to get some sleep in the hold. It was mid-afternoon. The two hatches were shut, so only the square lights from the grates shone into the dark hold. The beams of light caught the dust particles floating in the air, and would shift and shimmer when a cloud passed across the sun.

It smelled musty, like someone’s attic. Crates, barrels, guns, chests, and treasure filled the hold to the top. There was a narrow walkway across the entire length, and crawlspaces if somebody had to get on top of all the junk to reach something. They had to cut down on hammocks due to the sheer amount of shit piled inside, and Dirk’s usual hammock got ousted, so he was currently sleeping in the one hanging above the pyramid of emptied water barrels. They re-purposed the barrels as holders for the stolen _Midnight Runner_ liquor. 

Dirk heard the roar of the ocean around him, felt his hammock rock him in soothing waves. It was calm and dark. It did nothing to help him sleep. His thoughts were stuck on Jake. Particularly, his body, how it was decked in gold.

The snakebites. The three tongue piercings. The dick hardware. _Those nipples._ They had to be for sex, they couldn’t just be for aesthetic purposes. Did he know how to use them? How would they feel inside Dirk, licking him, sucking on him, rubbing up against his body? The thoughts alone were enough to send him deep into the throes of erotic heat. 

He’d masturbate, but-

“Hi!” said John, popping into existence right in front of Dirk’s face. Dirk screamed. He nearly capsized the hammock with how hard he jolted forward.

“Fuck, fuck you dude, don’t do that,” Dirk gasped, putting a hand over his chest to try and still his pounding heart. He steadied the hammock, then collapsed back into it and groaned. “What do you want?”

John beamed down at Dirk, the flash of his teeth barely visible in the dim light. “Can I crawl in with you?”

"Why not Vriska?" he asked. "The sea's quiet, she's got fuck all to do. Go bother her."

"Vriska doesn't like it in her butt," John stage-whispered. "And you loooooooove it."

"You got me there." Dirk shifted, to allow John to stash himself into the hammock. The canvas wrapped around them like a cocoon, and they slotted together tighter than puzzle pieces. All of John’s veils moved to act as light blankets, and they smelled sweet, like fresh laundry hung outside for a while. John pressed a soft, warm kiss to Dirk’s cheek.

They didn't often kiss, him and John. It wasn't that Dirk didn't like it; John simply wasn't big on the romantic vibes that kissing generally gave off. Kissing had too much effort and too little stimulation. The dude liked constant high-stakes entertainment.

Dirk asked him about it once, to which he replied 'Romance is dumb and I'm tired.' Dirk supposed being immortal and watching your loves wilt with the passage of time would indeed put a damper on the whole romance thing.

“This is fine and all,” said Dirk, dodging a second kiss. He pointed over the edge of the hammock. “But Aradia’s like, right over there.”

“Don’t mind me, boys!” she hollered, from her hammock nested behind a pile of crates. “I’ll just cover up your cries of passion with some tunes! Think of it as mood music!”

Fuckin’ cockblocked. John groaned, “Nevermind,” and fell back against the hammock.

He didn’t make any attempt to leave. Guess he wanted to cuddle. Not like Dirk was getting any sleep anyway.

Aradia tuned her guitar, plucking gently in the stuffy hold. The notes carried over the roar of the sea and the creaking of the ship. She strummed a couple chords, warming up, and Dirk recognized it as a song she was working on. He knew the chorus, maybe he’d join in.

She began to sing, her voice better than anyone else’s on the _Black Diamond._ With the sole exception of Karkat, but he was more of a ‘quantity-over-quality’ type of good.

_to the tune of Rolling Down to Old Maui_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/3CNDrRwZsNPyg3IX7xgmOO)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BeRBhk82g2g)]

* * *

It's a damn tough life full of toil and strife  
We freedwomen undergo  
And we’re proud of our king with his powers true  
That force the winds to blow  
We're portward bound there are cheers abound  
With a friendly crew of nine  
And we’re free to drink and eat and sleep  
Saved by the diamond line

Once long ago we were down below  
In the dark, cramped, damp, slave hold  
We were Prospit bound, with our hope dismayed  
We thought we’d die enslaved  
Six hellish months we passed away  
On the cold and windy sea  
But we were found by the sisters crowned  
Pirates of the diamond line

_(Chorus)_  
_Rolling down the diamond line, me boys_  
_Rolling down the diamond line_  
_We're homeward bound with our treasures found_  
_Hoo-rah for the diamond line_

The sisters two needed a strong crew  
To start their lives anew  
They left their Moms who took their eyes  
And had burned our captain’s arm  
The horrid scourge of the diamond line  
They wanted to become  
With just the pair in a small rowboat  
They challenged the diamond line

Beneath the night they climbed up the height  
Of our floating prison cell  
And they slit some throats, and they killed the most  
Sent our captors all to hell  
We were shocked and stunned when we found out  
They were only just thirteen  
Depending on one eye and three arms  
Killers cold, the scourge sisters

_(Chorus)_

We found a cleft and the blind one left  
Became our Pirate Queen  
At the Velvet Court, she gives support  
And provides us with a plan  
Our captain too assigns our great crew  
With tactics that succeed  
With Serket and her first mate Dirk  
We’re sure to always win

The other captives may have left  
And we’ve gone our separate ways  
But we eight stay with our captain  
Fifteen years it’s been by now  
We love this life and have good fun  
We're a bit bloodthirsty  
Traveling back now to our Velvet Court home  
We’re certain to buy some whores

_(Chorus)_

| 

"Why weren’t you sleeping? What were you thinking about?" John said, propping his head up on his arm so he could gaze down at Dirk. Unusually considerate of him, he lowered his voice so as not to mask Aradia’s singing. "Was it that new guy?"

Dirk didn't want to admit it. He really didn't. But he was a terrible liar. So he dodged the question.

“Yeah,” said Dirk, keeping quiet. “He asked about you. Are you sure you don’t know him?”

John shrugged. “Definitely not. I have never seen him before, and I’ve been all over the place! He just kind of reminds me of my sister, that’s all.”

“He asked where you go when you’re not with us,” said Dirk. “Where do you go? Do you have an island too?”

“No, that’s just Dave and his stupid emo death fortress. I have no home, I drift around! I meet people, answer some prayers if I feel like it, float in the winds and watch and be all benevolent and stuff.”

Considering John lives in the winds, it was peculiar he had never seen Jake before. Although John _was_ kind of a dumbass, it was possible he saw Jake and forgot about it. It was also plausible that Jake never went outside, or had never been on the sea before.

Dirk forced his thoughts away from dick piercings and funneled them into what he should have been thinking about all this time. He picked one of his many questions to discuss with John.

“I’ve noted that he’s not upset about his ship literally exploding. It’s weird,” said Dirk. “It’s not like he doesn’t know, or have amnesia. We got him to draw a picture of it.”

“Maybe he was a slave! He’s happy they’re all dead,” said John.

“That’s plausible, but you still make friends while imprisoned. Kind of hard not to when you’re basically fuckin’ spooning someone for months at a time,” said Dirk, thinking of his own childhood experience. The quartermasters of his ship were smart enough to put him between and beneath people who could not speak each other’s languages in order to prevent an uprising. But he learned, and they learned, and he came to care for them. He was still bummed that no one in his block remained a pirate after they were sprung free.

“It could have just set sail? Maybe he didn’t have a chance to get to know anybody!”

“John, Prospit and Derse are nowhere close to where we sighted that ship, I think the nearest port is the goddamn Velvet Court, and they definitely didn’t originate from our pirate hold.”

John shrugged, then laid his head down next to Dirk’s, tired of the conversation. It took a few moments before he whispered, “I’m bored. I’m going to see what Vriska’s up to.”

Dirk nodded, and John vanished into whirling wisps of wind. Dirk rolled onto his back, staring up at the dark beams of wood. He listened to Aradia’s song, which she crafted into a good story. The song was far more interesting than what actually happened. He liked the shout-out to his first matery, not that he was really all that important, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

He sang the last chorus with her. He wasn’t great at singing, but he was long past embarrassment with his friends on the _Black Diamond._ Despite all the weird shit that happened to them, and how loose he’d gotten with his morality, all in all he was incredibly happy to be with the people he considered his family.

Just two more days, and they’d dump Jake off at the Velvet Court, and it would all be back to normal.  
  
---|---


	3. King In The Sea

They’d be at the Velvet Court by next morning.

Everyone was in a good mood. The stars were clear, the night was young, the wind blew strong and smelled of salt. They lit glass lanterns and let loose, sitting around the deck and telling stories and singing the kind of raucous songs reserved for when the crew was utterly wasted. Dirk sat against the rail on the calm night and smiled, when no one was looking. This is what he loved most about life on the seas.

They brought the portable oven to the deck. It was just a metal box with sand inside that could fit a large dutch oven. They cooked up their best salted meats and sweets for one last oceanside feast, and everyone ate their fill. Jake currently had a teapot on it, but most of the crew were too busy drinking spirits and rum to chug down anything sobering.

Due to his immunity to all the poisons he and Vriska were ever able to get their hands on and ingest bit-by-bit, it took an insane amount of alcohol to get them drunk. Even at the end of their journey, he didn’t enjoy wasting their supplies on very little personal payoff. Never stopped Vriska though.

Most everyone was fucking smashed, even Karkat. Equius was an exception, as per usual; he was manning the till and never imbibed anyway due to his ethical code. And there was Jake, who didn’t seem to want to drink anything.

Jake sat near Dirk, at the edge of the group, against the rail amidships. Dirk tried not to keep glancing at Jake’s bare shoulder, how his shirt slipped down and exposed that soft, smooth skin, which looked lovely in the moonlight. Jake smiled pleasantly at the group in front of them, unable to participate in the sing-along. He tended the oven nearby. Nobody had drank Jake’s tea yet. Maybe Dirk should ask for some. This was his last chance, after all. 

Despite the insistence of literally everyone on board, Dirk hadn’t tried anything Jake concocted. He thought his eagerness to try it out might give away his uncontrollable lust, and that would ruin the stoic immune-to-horniness vibes he was trying to give off. But, fuck it, it wasn’t like he’d see Jake again after tomorrow, right? Even if he messed it up it’d be fine, probably.

Karkat swayed precariously against the rail on the opposite side of the deck. “Hey,” he hollered, his scratchy voice audible within 30 sea miles. It was a little slurred. “Hey, it’s about goddamn time for _The King in the Sea!_ Are you filthy maggots all with me!?”

There were cheers from everyone surrounding Karkat. Dirk liked this shanty, even though Karkat’s verses were always a crapshoot. It was about Dirk's favorite pirate god, the Sea King. He never met her, few had, but he adored her so much he had her black tentacles tattooed on his hand.

Karkat swayed against the rail. Feferi lashed out and pulled him back towards safer footing, saying, “Careful, Karkat, you can’t swim!”

While Karkat stabilized himself, and while there was the loud babble of light-hearted jabs at Karkat, Dirk leaned over towards Jake. It was best to go for it when nobody was paying attention to him. He pointed at the teapot. He mumbled, just loud enough for Jake to hear, “Can I have some tea? Tea. Tea please.”

Jake blinked at him. For a second, Dirk thought he didn’t understand, then Jake bit his lip. Like he was thinking something over. After a couple seconds, he nodded to himself, like he made a decision. 

His lashes fell, his head lowered, and he gazed up at Dirk with a look that could only be described as coy. He licked his lips, slowly, so Dirk could see the glint of his tongue piercings. They shone wet and alluring in the moonlight. If he kissed him deep, would they be fun to play with? Dirk heard Karkat yelling something about tuning, but he was unable to parse any language at the moment.

Jake breached the distance between them. Dirk blanked the fuck out, every inch of his body shot through with static, and his lips parted on reflex. But instead of kissing him, Jake pressed his fingers to Dirk’s chin, and pushed it ever so gently so he was forced to stare forward. Jake put his lips right up against Dirk’s ear.

“Can we take tea with just the two of us? Alone?” he whispered. His heavy accent made Dirk shiver down to the core.

This wasn’t right. It was too sudden. He must have entered some alternate dimension. Jake didn’t so much as flirt with anyone on the ship, so why would he start now? And it made no sense for Dirk to be the first recipient of said flirtations. They barely even talked. Was it because he noticed Dirk leering at him? Or was he secretly attracted to Dirk this entire time? He _did_ stare at Dirk’s tattoos on occasion, maybe he had an inked-up fetish? Although why wouldn’t he have hit on him earlier if that were the case? Why wait until the last hours of their journey? Did Jake even _know_ it was the last day of their journey?

Either way, there was no possible way this was happening, it must be a cultural misunderstanding. That’s it. Simple.

“Complicated sentence structure for a beginning language learner, bro,” said Dirk, his voice cracking. Jake’s fingers were still on his chin, they were so soft, like a fucking angel. They’d never been calloused or seen a day of work. “Such salacious grammar might give a guy… ideas.”

Dirk thanked the Kings that Karkat and the group began to scream-sing, because he needed something loud to cover up the sound he made when Jake tugged on Dirk’s earlobe with his lips.

_to the tune of Fish in the Sea_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/0sxvxUsPjXQf4Ln7bOkOrj)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjQhB1RDhSY)]

* * *

Come all you young fuckasses, listen to me  
I'll sing you a song of the king in the sea; 

_(Chorus)_  
_And it's..._  
_Violent ocean, boys, stormy ocean, girls_  
_When the tides shift, we're all together, girls;_  
_Pray for the king to see, pray for her boon_  
_Pray for her mercy, boys, beneath the moon_

Up jumps the king with her beautiful bod  
She’s so gorgeous she must be a god

_(Chorus)_

She opens her mouth and there’s nine rows of teeth  
Saying, "You think I’m hot, girls? Then don’t look beneath!”

_(Chorus)_

She climbs the boat, her tendrils don’t fit  
"If you want easy seas, well, don’t stare at my tits!"

_(Chorus)_

| 

It started slow, just a little pull, a flick of the piercing on the tip of Jake’s tongue. Then, Jake drew it around the entire shell of Dirk’s ear. Dirk felt the bump of every piercing, imagined how great they’d feel on sensitive skin. Chills rattled him. His eyes rolled all the way back into his head.

“Yeah,” Dirk moaned, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Everyone was too busy being wasted or singing and didn’t notice. He managed to calm himself enough to whisper. “Yes, yeah. Just the two of us.”

Jake pressed one final kiss to the tip of Dirk’s ear and backed away. He nodded, still coy as hell, and put out the fire in the oven with the damper. He shut the door on it, then took the teapot and teacups. He carried them to the cabin’s hatch, which he had learned how to open by himself. Weird that he didn’t go into the hold, but admittedly, it was difficult to have sex in a hammock. If… that was what they were doing? Dirk was too shaken to rationalize anything. Although he had a hard time believing that making out with someone’s ear lobe was a cultural greeting and not a come on.

Shivering from nervousness and excitement, Dirk took a moment to take some deep breaths. He stood up, walked to Vriska. He leaned over her, tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to him, midway through belting the chorus, and drunkenly yelled, “Whaaaaaaaat!?”

“I’m using your cabin,” he muttered. “I’ll change the sheets this time.”

She slapped him on the back so hard it knocked the wind out of him, then hollered, “Chyeah! Get some!” He made a hasty retreat before she could give him any ‘hot tips.’  
  
---|---  
  
Dirk fixed his hair, all jittery. It took him a couple tries to open the cabin’s hatch; he kept slamming his fingers in it. He hoped Jake would be cool with the genital situation. He didn’t know how to pantomime that. He hadn’t had a problem with fellow pirates, but you could never tell with civvies.

He descended the ladder and found Jake waiting for him, the tea already poured for the both of them. Jake sat in the plush rocking chair, his beautiful ankles crossed all proper. He had lit Vriska's lantern on the end table, a romantic source of lighting, and the only illumination in the dim room. He also shifted the furniture around so it looked like a proper tea room setup. But Dirk wasn’t interested in any leaf juice.

“So, are we, uh, going to…” Dirk felt his face redden, and he scratched his neck. “Shit, you can’t understand me.”

Jake fluttered his eyelashes, then gestured at the table with the tea on it. “Tea? Tea for just us.”

“Look, can we skip this and get to the banging,” Dirk asked, rubbing his shoulder, knowing Jake wouldn’t pick up on the vocab. “I’m an anxious fuck and would like to get on with the show because you’re— A. Literally the hottest dude that’s ever been on this ship, and B. Because there’s no way Vriska isn’t going to drunkenly barge in here in half an hour, yelling at me about finding me in compromising situations. So go ahead and bend me over and raw me in any hole you want, right now, ‘kay thanks.”

Jake flashed a blank, vapid grin at Dirk. Dirk imagined it said, ‘why are you talking right now, dude.’ Jake gestured harder at the table. He lifted his eyebrows, showing off those beautiful emeralds. He gestured again at the table. “Drink?” he said, rolling a hard r. “Please Dirk.”

Dirk sighed. If this is what was required for a thorough pounding, then so be it. He plucked up the cup, not bothering to appreciate its color or scent or whatever, and just threw the entire goddamn contents of it into his mouth.

It sizzled on his tongue, like something too salty. Tasted… familiar. 

He froze. His heart hammered in his ears, his eyes widened when he recognized the taste. There was no mistake. He was not hallucinating this.

Chlorine and cyanide. A shit ton of chlorine, and a little cyanide to seal the deal. One sip would kill a normal person.

Reality washed over Dirk like a bucket of cold water, dousing his hormones and lust, it felt like time fuckin’ stopped. This was one hell of an 11th hour twist. Just before they were about to make port, a guy whom they _rescued_ who _can’t speak their language_ and seemed _really excited about being on board_ decided to lure the first mate into the basement and kill him. What exactly was this supposed to accomplish? Was he just some crazy psychopath? And if so, why wait until the last day of the journey to commit some dastardly deed? Nonetheless, Dirk was very disappointed that he fell for the sexy assassin trick. Of course Jake wouldn’t be genuinely into him, that’d be nuts.

He swallowed. Made sure Jake could see the movement of his throat.

So he knew how to kill someone, but he didn’t know Dirk was immune to poison. Dirk had limited time to act. Should he pretend to die? See what the fuck Jake will do when he “killed” someone surrounded by loyal allies, when there’s no hope of escape on a boat in the middle of the ocean? Yeah, that sounded fun. 

Time to test out his acting abilities. It had been so long since any poison affected him, but he hypothesized chlorine would make his throat swell or disintegrate, that he’d asphyxiate before convulsing into death throes.

He dropped the teacup, it clattered against the wood. Tragically, it didn’t break in a dramatic fashion. He clutched at his neck, and tried to look like his insides were melting.

“Huuaaghghh,” he yelled. Uh, okay, not the best vocal effect he’d ever performed. Jake wasn’t alerted by the poor method acting. He watched Dirk with a pleasant smile, like there wasn’t any poison in the tea and they were simply enjoying a fine soirée.

“Huaaahh, bleeehhh,” said Dirk, sticking out his tongue and pretending to choke. He clutched at his throat even harder. With enthusiasm, he lurched forward, but accidentally lurched _too_ far forward and slammed his head on the table like a moron. It knocked him right the fuck out.

He woke up probably a second or so later, face down on the floor. Once Dirk pulled himself back to consciousness, he slit open one eye. He wanted to see if he needed to add in some seizure-like death spasms to make his stunning performance even more believable, but Jake wasn't looking at him. He stood with his back to Dirk, facing the lantern. Dirk propped his head up against the floor and watched him.

Now, Dirk wasn't one to believe in magic. Sure, they befriended a god, and they knew that at least two more pirate gods were dicking around the planarsphere, and there were probably more gods for more cultures out there, but wizardry? Fuck no. That was for Roxy’s books. But he didn’t have any other explanation for what was happening. Gods didn’t bless people with goddamn _light powers._ Not unless they were a god of sweet raves.

Jake drew his arms in a large arc. Starlight appeared in the trails of his fingertips, a shining circle hovering in the air like he painted it in silver. Although his movements weren’t perfect, the geometry that curled from his hands shaped themselves into stunning pictures, and he began to draw what Dirk thought was a compass. Dirk sat up, as quiet as he could manage, and watched Jake finish the compass mid-air.

It took a couple minutes, and Jake didn’t glance behind him one single time. Who the fuck taught him to murder. Didn’t he know not to turn his back on the body?

Dirk reached for one of the swords behind him. He placed it on his lap, and waited. The compass spun around, Jake manipulating its direction. With a voice that echoed, like two people speaking in one body, he announced, “Santi Morti, la pamo se appretico es morti, vec es la a la es mortia na penchivi.”

Nothing happened. Jake twitched. He repeated the phrase, reverb effects and all, but still nothing happened. And so, finally, he turned around.

The confused look on his face twisted into a scream when Dirk wiggled his eyebrows at him. The compass vanished, and Jake clapped his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide with fear. His face drained of all color, like he died. Dirk stood up, calm, feeling incredibly badass at the moment.

“How?” sputtered Jake, his voice muffled. His body started to shiver. “How, what, how-”

“I am Dirk Strider, first mate of the _Black Diamond,”_ he said, unsheathing the sword. “And I did not spend fifteen years taking poison like bar shots to fall at the hands of a pathetic, bejeweled nobody.” 

Jake proceeded to snatch the pot of tea, rip off the lid, and hurl the contents at Dirk. Getting doused with warm floral liquid really put a damper on the cool threatening mood Dirk was in. He wiped his face off on his kimono, and let Jake shove past him, hurry up the ladder, and open the hatch. Not like he had anywhere to go.

And while Dirk was alone… He swiped the red poison from Vriska’s tube rack, and stashed it in the sleeve of his kimono. He’d take it to a Velvet Court appraiser when on shore.

He climbed the ladder, opened the hatch. Jake crouched in the middle of the ship, trying to lift the heavy grated main hatch to the hold. Probably to hide. The crew was paying him no mind despite being literally right next to him, singing another song about big ol’ titties, as they were wont to do.

Dirk turned around, and waved at Equius. “Dude, would you get everyone’s attention for me?”

“Yes, sir,” said Equius. He jammed both pinkies into his mouth, then proceeded to whistle loud enough for every one of Dirk’s drunken, dumbass friends to shut up and swivel around. 

“Hey guys,” called Dirk, calmly. He pointed the sword towards Jake. “Jake tried to kill me.”

“Ba, ba, il Dirk si matricotion,” Jake babbled, panicked, his fingers slipping on the hatch.

Without hesitation, Nepeta jumped up, caught the back of Jake’s velvet choker, and slammed his head into the grate. It didn’t knock him out, but it left a big imprint on his forehead, and made him too woozy to try and flee. He collapsed forward. Nepeta then chose to sit on top of him because… Nepeta.

One rundown of events later (and one extremely-drunk-shuffling-around-to-find-some-loose-ropes later), they tied Jake to the mainmast. Everyone, despite various levels of inebriation, understood that Jake attempted to poison Dirk and attempted to cast a spell. Dirk even managed to tell it without recounting that he only went down there alone due to Intense Hormones. Most of them were as shocked as Dirk was, but everyone trusted his story. All but Equius gathered around Jake in a semi-circle. 

He sat on the floor, legs out, his arms and hands lashed to the wood. He grinned up at them, innocently, but the corners of his smile kept twitching. 

Vriska shook her head at him like a disappointed parent and tutted. “This is what we get for saving you in the middle of the ocean? Oh Jake, Jake Jake Jake. You’ve got a big storm coming, buddy.”

Feferi giggled, she was a bubbly drunk. “He seemed reely excited to be on a pirate ship, I wonder why he tried to krill ya! What the glub should we do with him?”

“Let’s cut out his tongue,” said Dirk, who wasn’t feeling generous.

“Let’s cut off his hands!” cheered Aradia.

“Let’s make him drink the poison he tried to give Dirk,” suggested Roxy. “I wanna see what happens!”

“Ooo, no, let’s use that new poison we found! See what it does!” said Vriska, her eyes glinting. 

Dirk grimaced, trying to think of an excuse as to why Vriska shouldn’t go down to her cabin and find the poison absent. Thankfully, Equius had a better suggestion.

“We should, uh,” called Equius, from the till. Dirk could hear him beginning to sweat. “Flog his supple, nude skin for his transgressions.”

There was a solemn “Mhhmm,” that echoed through the crew. Yeah, that sounded nice. Roxy closed her eyes and nodded violently. Sollux started slow clapping. 

“You’re guys ‘r all dumb and drunk, put your bulges back in your pants,” slurred Karkat, swaying back and forth. “We can’t do shiiiiiiiit to him ‘cuz what if Pyrope throws a fit since we killed some hyper exotic prisoner with magic powers from a mysterious country? That’s bad news for us, yeah.”

A collective groan echoed from the crew. Vriska threw her arm around Karkat’s shoulders. “And this is why I keep you around, Vantas! You’re right, Pyrope _would_ throw a fit if she couldn’t personally torture information out of this useless joke of a man! We’ll save him for the Velvet Court tomorrow, and he’ll get his just desserts, and everything’s gonna come up our way!”

“We should at least leave him all tied up, right?” said Aradia. “If he really does have magic powers, he’d surely use them to escape a grievous, painful, and drawn out death!”

Collectively, they all folded their arms, and stared down at Jake with varying degrees of entertainment. Jake laughed, nervous.

They continued partying like nothing happened, keeping an eye on Jake. Dirk, especially, would glance at him time-to-time to see if he was attempting any tricks. But nothing happened. Jake leaned against the mast and stared at the stars the whole night, utterly silent. He did not perform another lightshow. At the end of the festivities, the crew chalked the “spell” up to Dirk hallucinating it after knocking himself out on the table, and Dirk started to believe it too. That’d be crazy, if Jake pulled some fancy effects out of fucking nowhere.

They left Jake tied up on the deck, and Sollux watched him as part of his lookout duties. They arrived without issue at the Velvet Court, just after sunrise. A little hungover, but otherwise, no worse for wear.


	4. St. Anne's Reel (Instrumental)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _mood music for this chapter: St. Anne's Reel_  
>  [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/4fwdR8FWWWTbyZ4STnhk8m)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqSX05Sihnc)]

The Velvet Court. A free town and pirate hold that consumed the entire island it settled on. It was craggy, small, and cramped, built on a volcanic landmass that had so many fissures running through it the entire thing looked like it was about to dissolve into the ocean. It had a population of 2,000, although that only counted permanent residents. It imported everything and exported nothing, and that’s how they liked it.

With little hassle, the crew moored the _Black Diamond_ in her berth. Although they were only gone for two months, homecoming wasn’t any less satisfying. The sprawl of floating, rickety docks erupted with deckhands to help bring her in, and the crew of the _Black Diamond_ hopped off and joined the sea of humanity trying to get their landlegs back.

The docks took up the entire west side of the island, a giant spiderweb construction of salvaged wood strung to barrels, and essentially held together by the hopes and dreams of those managing it. There were plenty of ships in port, mostly sloops like the _Black Diamond,_ but there were bigger pirate vessels like caravels and junk ships, and a couple galleons with their massive sails furled and bored pirates guarding their decks. It all rocked in the gentle waves of the sea, the township looming behind it like a steady rock.

The Velvet Court, and by proxy the entire island itself, was surrounded by a high black wall made of volcanic clay. The sole entrance was an arch with the motto carved in large block letters into the top and painted red. NO GODS; FOUR KINGS; ONE COUNCIL ONE QUEEN.

The entire day was spent unloading the _Black Diamond,_ making sure crates and barrels of stolen goods went to the appropriate gondolas. Every crew member had a specialty, and this was Karkat’s. He was the only fucking person in possibly the entire town that could keep track of the labyrinthine set of buyers and sellers located within the confines of the Velvet Court. And he’d know really surreal stuff too, like, “Oh, fuck no, don’t give those perfumes to Martha’s place, she’ll scalp us if they aren’t alcohol based. Her nose barely works because she’s transformed into a decrepit husk of her former self after The Incident.” This was the part of the journey where everyone obeyed his shouting without question. 

Roxy sat on the deck with her blunderbuss at the ready, watching for any errant pirates to steal their goods at the last second, or watching for Jake to make an escape attempt. Equius, Dirk, and Nepeta lifted goods off the ship, while the rest of the crew packed it onto gondolas and accompanied it to whatever sellers Karkat decided to ship it to inside the town. Dirk also played the minor role of standing in the background, looking like a threatening badass when Karkat hollered at suspicious gondoliers who tried to overcharge for their taxi services. Dirk was pretty good at looking like a threatening badass, as long as he didn’t open his mouth.

It took all day to unload the boat. The sun was almost set when they sat on the empty deck, waiting for Vriska to come back from her meeting with the pirate queen. They all lounged against the dry wood, silent and tired, watching the orange and purple light glimmer across the clean deck. Dirk was exhausted, he felt like sweat had dried in every crevice of his skin. He couldn’t wait to go to the baths.

Dirk was jerked out of his bath fantasy by Vriska yelling from the dock, “Hey, guys, we’re cleared for entry!”

There were a few quiet cheers as everyone sat up and started deboarding the _Black Diamond._ Since the ship was cleared off, nobody gave a shit about guarding it. If anyone stole the guns or the ship itself, the thief would be in deep shit with the pirate council. As Roxy helped Sollux down the boarding plank, he asked Vriska, “Do we have to meet with Pyrope tonight?”

“Nope,” said Vriska, shrugging. “She was busy. But we’ve all got a meeting three hours past sunrise with her, so don’t get too wasted tonight! And nobody forget!”

Dirk was the last one off the ship. Well, almost. Roxy untied Jake from the mast at some point, probably to let him take a piss, but she tied him up at the wrists with his arms behind his back in exchange. She tied those ropes to a belaying pin. He leaned against the rail in the back of the ship, napping.

Was the plan to just leave him there? Seemed a waste. Also dangerous, since someone could come and cut his ropes free.

It wasn’t selflessness that drove Dirk to wake Jake up, it was practicality. And also, maybe a little sprinkle of lust. Dirk still couldn’t douse that craving, the desire for the sensuous nature of Jake’s body and how he presented himself. He shook Jake’s shoulder, and Jake blinked up at him, bleary eyed. 

Dirk knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t resist some very base desires. It was fine. It wasn’t like he was going to touch Jake inappropriately, just hang out with him. While totally naked. It would be fine, he had the willpower to resist any deadly charms. So much willpower.

“Hey,” said Dirk, leaning into Jake’s view. “How do you feel about a bath?”

They were the last of the _Black Diamond_ crew to leave the docks. Dirk flagged down a gondola, helped Jake in, and sat behind him. Jake had his wrists bound behind his back. Since this was a pirate town, nobody would find this weird at all. People saw way worse shit on a daily basis.

The gondolier used her pole to push them through the docks and through the arch of the Velvet Court. Due to the craggy nature of the island, the Velvet Court lacked streets, instead forced to use the fissures of the island as canals to move through. The waterways made no sense, only swirling and whirling wherever nature willed them, and the town built itself around their shape. The houses and business grew upwards instead of outwards, and most buildings were these shambling, narrow things, with so many stories they blocked out the light of the sun.

Jake’s mouth dropped wide open when they passed into town, his eyes became dinner plates at the size of the civilization before him. Made from volcanic rock and salvage from abandoned boats, all the dwellings with their candlelit windows piled up and up into the night sky. Since the Velvet Court was a melting pot, everything was built in a unique manner, in styles particular to the original owner. There were curved shingles, round windows, tiny clay courtyards with small gardens in front, old school brick storefronts, vines crawling down broken windows, and entryways made from the stolen golden gates of palaces. Lanterns in metal cases hung from every doorway, to light the way of the boats, and their styles varied as much as the houses they belonged to.

“Waow!” Jake gasped, then twisted around to smile at Dirk. “Pirates!”

Dirk chuckled, despite himself. “Yeah, we’re pirates.”

The waterway was filled with gondola taxis this evening. He waved to a couple acquaintances he passed, and saluted even more enemies. Jake’s smile grew bigger and bigger as their gondolier pushed them onward along calm saltwater canals, deeper into the maze.

The ride wasn’t long. She pulled them to a stop in front of a narrow building constructed entirely out of stolen white marbles. There used to be gold around the arched doorway, but it had long since fallen off or been taken. Dirk paid the gondolier a couple crowns for her service, then stepped onto a small white staircase that led into the water. He helped Jake out of the boat, then held open the door to the bath house for him.

There were three public baths, all in different styles, and Dirk preferred this white marble one due to it being less crowded and the general style of it. He liked lounging in a steam room for up to six hours at a time. 

The lobby was small, only able to fit four or so people. Heat from the baths inside permeated the room, the smell was clean and heavenly, made Dirk want to drift right in. The walls and ceiling matched the style of the baths themselves— complex hexagonal patterns in orange and blue and cream, perfectly tessellated across the whole span of it. Large bronze lanterns with intricate metalwork hung low from the ceiling, almost hitting Dirk in the head.

Tavros manned the desk today. He was a nervous guy, with a mohawk and not one, but two goddamn peglegs. He somehow managed to walk with them without a cane, which impressed the shit out of Dirk. 

“Oh, uh, hey Strider, DStri, what’s up my man,” said Tavros, sitting up straight behind the solid marble desk, one painted with gorgeous geometric borders. “You’re here kind of, a little late, nobody’s here… Uh, do you want the usual package?”

Dirk’s ‘usual package’ consisted of the in-house massage guy and/or girl scrubbing and washing him off and oiling him up and shit. Sounded incredible, but Jake was with him. Maybe tomorrow.

“Just the baths,” said Dirk, digging out the appropriate amount of crowns from his kimono sleeve. He set them on the counter. “And I have a guest today, so make it two.”

“Oh,” said Tavros, glancing around Dirk and blinking at Jake. Jake beamed at him. “Well, uh, you know my policy about spunk and gunk on the benches… So don’t get up to, you know, hanky panky and stuff, with your bondage boy toy, or I’ll uh, tell on you.”

“He’s not my-” Dirk stopped, and slid a hand down his face, resigned. “Yeah, okay, no spunk on your fine marbles, got it, is the changing room empty?”

Tavros nodded, then gestured towards the curtained room on the right. Dirk beckoned for Jake to follow, then led him through a short hallway and into another curtained room meant for getting in one’s birthday suit. The whole hallway was lined with lanterns, but only one light was lit in the changing room, making everything quite dim and cozy.

It was small, meant for one person, but both Jake and Dirk could fit comfortably inside without bumping into each other. There was a small cushioned bench for sitting on, plenty of hooks for hanging up their clothes, and clean towels for them to wrap around their waists if they felt like being modest. Dirk did not feel like being modest, he was incredibly comfortable in his skivvies while in the pirate hold.

Jake grinned at Dirk, clearly in a good mood, waiting for him to do something. Dirk wasn’t sure he got the concept of ‘bath’ across to Jake well enough. Hopefully he figured it out with the steam and the towels and shit. 

Dirk decided he would undress, then he’d take off as much of Jake’s clothing as he could. He didn’t trust Jake with his arms free. He turned away from Jake, towards the plush red curtain, and took off his shoes, then unknotted and unwound the long tie of his hakama. He removed them, folding them neatly, then untied the simple obi he wore beneath. He let his kimono slip off. He hung it on the hook for now; he’d give it to Tavros for safekeeping once he got Jake undressed.

He turned to face Jake. Jake raised an eyebrow, apparently not alarmed by the stripping. Good, it meant he knew they were in a bath house. Probably. Jake's eyes flickered in the lantern light, and he glanced down. 

Despite chugging potent herbal cocktails of imbibed masculinity since age 9, Dirk was about as hung as a rose bud. His junk wasn’t a real contender for, say, a 10 inch monster dong. But it was his dick and he liked it, even if he couldn’t win a measuring contest with most of the other men at the baths.

Jake gave him the once over, a slow look absorbing all of his body, but didn’t linger or gawk at the goods. Cool. What wasn’t cool was the way Dirk nearly lost his composure over Jake staring him in the eye, batting his eyelashes, and biting his lip like some shitty femme fatale caricature. Nope, Dirk was _not_ falling for the sexy assassin trick again. Fool me once…

Dirk held his hands up, non-threatening, and stepped very close to Jake. “I’m going to undress you now, so we can take a bath. Let’s make this nice and easy.”

Jake had a couple inches on Dirk, only noticeable when Dirk stood right next to him. Like right now. Dirk tried not to gawk at Jake’s gorgeous collarbone, at the elegant curve of his neck, at those goddamn nipples. Dirk glared at Jake’s waist, and tugged the oversized shirt out from beneath his sash. It was buttoned only at the bottom.

“Come on, Dirk,” Jake purred. Fuck, his accent was to die for. “Look at me.”

Again with the weirdly complex grammatical structures for the purpose of seduction. Although admittedly, Dirk didn't know how much Common Jake picked up while on the boat. Maybe he was a fast learner.

Dirk ripped all the buttons open in one fell swoop. Aware he was mostly talking to himself, he said, “I don’t know why you’re trying to fuck me at this point, you’re not going to gain anything even if I wind up in a compromising position. You’re clearly inept at murdering and I can beat you in an arm wrestling contest any day of the week. There’s no hope, dude.”

Jake pouted, either due to the inability to understand the sentence or due to the scolding tone of Dirk’s voice. Dirk circled around to Jake’s backside to get the choker off. He didn’t see a hook anywhere, it was just solid black all the way ‘round. Dirk pressed his fingers to the back of Jake’s neck.

Although it appeared soft, the velvet was matted by saltwater and the scum from dried sweat. It was probably itchy. Dirk slid his fingers beneath it, to find the clasp, but there were no hooks or buttons. Dirk gently circled the entirety of the choker, but there was no way to remove it. With dawning horror, Dirk asked, “… Are you sewn into this?”

Jake turned his head a little, so Dirk could barely see the curl of his eyelashes. He didn’t respond otherwise. Velvet chokers were a weird form of branding. Dirk started to feel guilty over keeping him tied up like this. Even if Jake _did_ try to kill him.

“Shit, dude, you _were_ a slave, huh? Why didn’t you cut these off when you were on our ship?” Dirk mumbled to himself. He sighed, his oft-ignored conscience starting to scratch at his insides. “Let me do it.”

Dirk dug through his discarded kimono and grabbed one of the stilettos he stored in his sleeves. He unsheathed it, then walked towards Jake as non-threateningly as he could while holding a knife. Both hands were up in a surrender position. Jake drew his head back, unsure.

“Hey, I’m just gonna get those off of you,” said Dirk, as gently as he could manage. “Sit down. Sit.”

Jake sat down on the dressing bench. Dirk squatted, then urged Jake’s leg up, held Jake’s left foot in the palm of his hand. He slid the flat of the blade beneath the fabric of the anklet, pressed out, and then rotated it and sliced through the velvet. Jake inhaled sharp, like Dirk cut him and he was trying to hide the pain. From his reaction, Dirk worried he accidentally nicked Jake. Dirk brushed away the broken anklet, titled Jake’s ankle back and forth. No blood, no redness, no nothing. Weird.

He did the same to the other anklet. Jake didn’t wince or gasp this time, and it came off easy. Jake’s expression wasn’t one of relief, it was more like… confusion. Whatever. One more to go.

Dirk stood up, then bent over Jake. He leaned towards Jake, tilted his chin up, angling him correctly. The underside of his neck was so soft. The tip of the knife glinted in the firelight. Dirk slid it against Jake’s skin, and Jake’s lips parted. Jake's breath caught, like something just slipped inside him. Dirk pushed the blade beneath the velvet, and held Jake’s head steady with a hand pressed firm to his cheek. It was a tight fit.

“Hold still,” Dirk whispered. Jake shut his eyes, his breath heady.

Dirk swiftly rotated the knife and tugged, made a clean cut through the black cloth. It collapsed against Jake’s shoulders. Jake winced, then upon realizing he wasn’t hurt, took a deep breath. Big, innocent eyes opened and peered at Dirk, almost in awe of him. Jake’s glance flickered down to Dirk’s lips, then back up. Dirk felt tension thick as liquor consume him.

Nope. No. He couldn’t fall for it. Dirk broke the intimacy by plucking the discarded choker off Jake and standing up. Jake rubbed his bare neck with the flat of his shoulder, chewing on his lip, musing on something. He looked so sweet and innocent.

It was getting to him. Dirk felt bad about the whole binding-a-probable-slave thing and stripping Jake of what little dignity he had left, so Dirk said, “I’ll free your arms so you can get undressed by yourself. But the ropes are going right back on once we’re out of the changing room.”

Jake gazed up at him, unresponsive. Dirk figured he’d get the picture once his ropes were off.

Jake made no attempt to escape or attack when Dirk got him untied, and he undressed himself without issue or fanfare. Dirk thought he would put on a strip show or something, but he just took it all off like a normal person. Dirk was maybe a little disappointed. But Jake’s mood seemed dampened, after Dirk cut the velvet from him.

Dirk re-tied Jake’s wrists together behind his back, trying not to ogle Jake’s ass or stand too close, then gathered up their clothes and Jake’s glasses. Dirk dropped off their stuff at the desk for Tavros to keep safe, and procured a bar of soap. He headed back through the hall, grabbed their towels, and guided Jake up the narrow stairs to the second floor. He hung up their towels on a hook outside the moist wooden door, swung it open, and led Jake through.

The bath house was built on top of a well that dug deep into the volcanic earth, and which drew up boiling hot water into a pool on the lower floor. The lower floor wasn't accessible to anyone due to the danger of burning your skin off, but the heat generated from the pool wafted up the vents and made the second floor all nice and hot and steamy. The third and fourth floors contained pools of running volcanic water, carried by aqueducts constructed at higher altitudes on the island and cooled to a manageable temperature due to the method of transportation.

The second floor was simply a hot steam room to clean yourself in. It was narrow, made of marble, and very dark. There were no lanterns, as the entire room was thick with wet steam and would have doused any flame within seconds. The single source of light came from filtered windows facing the canal, high up on the back wall, so only the barest hint of orange light shimmered through. Most everything was shiny from the reflection of the water, but Dirk was unable to see Jake’s expression with all the shadows.

He forgot how hard it was to stumble around and try to bathe himself in the darkness. The floor was slippery with hot moisture too. At least he had the layout memorized.

There were four fountains, one on each wall, with ever-running hot water pouring out a faucet into a basin, which overflowed into a drain on the slightly slanted floor. The fountains were set into alcoves, and the intent was that the bather would stand or sit next to the alcove and wash themselves with the running water before going upstairs to soak in the pools. In the middle of the room was a large, flat block of smooth marble, where you could sit or recline while you waited your turn to use the fountains. Because nobody was here, Dirk would probably use it to wash Jake.

Since, you know, his hands weren't free and all. Somebody had to do it. Lather up all that soft, taut skin. A tough job, to be sure.

It felt so good in here, after months on the harsh sea. The steam surged through Dirk’s muscles, refreshed his skin in mere seconds. He slid his hand through his hair and inhaled it all. It smelled a little sulfur-y from the volcanic nature, but it was worth it for the way the heat soothed him.

Dirk guided Jake to sit down on the warm slab in the middle of the room, then took a couple steps to the nearest font. "Too dark," Jake complained, as Dirk began to work the bar of soap into a lather. “Dirk, I want to see you.”

“Too fuckin’ bad,” said Dirk, who set the bar of soap safely at his feet. He washed his hair first, scrubbing away all the salt and sea that seemed to soak into his every muscle. He lathered up his face, behind the ears, got all thorough and in there, then dunked his head into the basin to rinse it all away.

He heard Jake stand up, his bare feet making a pat-pat noise against the wet floor. Dirk slicked back his hair, whirled around, and commanded, “No. No. Sit. Sit! Down boy.”

Dirk heard a long sigh, then the noise of Jake’s ass plapping back onto the marble block. In the dim orange light, filtered through the thick and puffy clouds of steam, all Dirk could see was Jake’s silhouette. Dirk picked up the soap, started scrubbing down his whole body, beginning at his neck.

“Wash me?” Jake asked, and Dirk heard the pout in his voice. 

“Yeah, yes, sure,” said Dirk. “Hold up.”

“Oh!” said Jake, surprised Dirk agreed. He didn’t say anything else, and Dirk hurried up with his cleaning. He usually took his time, but, well, he wanted his hands all over a body besides his own. 

He soaped up every inch of himself, freeing his skin from the grime of sailing. There were buckets sitting around that a bather could fill up with water and splash themselves with, but Dirk never used them. He instead used his hands to wash himself off, and the sheer amount of steam in the room would take care of the rest.

His task finished, and his body squeaky clean, he took the bar of soap in hand and called Jake over. Jake basically skipped to him, excited as all hell for another chance to… Dirk didn’t know. Seduce him? Drown him in the basin? Whatever. Dirk wouldn’t fall for it. He’d just indulge a little.

He started a lather in his hands, then held the bar of soap between his legs so he could reach up and wash Jake’s hair. It was already wet, from the heavy tufts of fog that misted through the room, and it felt so good and smooth and warm between Dirk’s fingers. Despite not combing his hair for more than twenty four hours, Jake didn’t have a single tangle.

Dirk couldn’t see anything but the outline of Jake’s head, and occasional glints of the gold in his face. Dirk didn’t know if this was better or worse than doing it in broad daylight. Better because he didn’t have to look Jake in the eye as he groped him, worse because he didn’t get to look at that beautiful body.

Jake had a _lot_ of hair, so it took two go-throughs to cover it all. And because Dirk was a pragmatic fuck, he decided to wash Jake’s face too, so he only had to dunk his head in the basin once. 

Dirk slid his fingers across Jake’s forehead, under his smooth cheeks, cupped his chin and dragged his hands along Jake’s jaw. He felt Jake’s face pull into a shit eating grin. God, it was hot in here… Like, hotter than normal. Dirk felt a heat go through him and he prayed it was from the volcano.

“My piercings,” said Jake. It sounded like he was teasing Dirk.

Dirk didn’t know if he was supposed to remove all the earrings or not. But he was afraid of losing them in the dark, so he washed around them. He drew his thumbs along the shells of Jake’s ears, feeling all the bumps and ridges of gold, gently massaging them. When he finished, he slid his pointer finger just beneath Jake’s lower lip to get the snake bites. Jake was still grinning like an idiot.

Dirk helped Jake find the basin in the humid dark, and ran his fingers through Jake’s hair beneath the warm water, to get rid of the soap. Their bodies bumped together a little —couldn’t help it, in close quarters like this— and wherever Dirk’s skin pressed to Jake’s, he burned. His hand shook as he pressed his palm to the soft curve of Jake’s neck, to guide him to wash his face. His hip slid against the curve of Jake’s waist. The urge to push their bodies together hammered through Dirk’s chest.

Once Jake washed off, Dirk slicked Jake’s bangs from his eyes. He couldn’t resist brushing his hand against Jake’s cheek on his way down. Jake leaned into it.

“Jake. Let’s, uh.” Despite the room soaking him to his bones, his throat felt quite dry. He licked his lips. “Let’s sit down. Sit.”

“Yes, Dirk,” purred Jake, as thick as the mist that surrounded them.

Dirk pressed a hand to Jake’s warm, slick back, and guided him to the marble block. Dirk sat next to him— their knees touched. He lathered up the soap, his soul shivering, and reached out for Jake’s body. It was like static when he pressed his palms to Jake’s neck. He pushed in just a little. Jake’s breath stuttered, “Ah,” he moaned. Dirk rubbed up and down Jake’s throat. He slid lower, to his collarbone, his chest—

“Dirk,” Jake said. It was so fucking hot in here. “My piercings.”

He had consent, and his resistance crumbled. Heat unfurled between his legs. Dirk trailed his hands down Jake’s smooth body, and rubbed his thumbs in circles around those perfect, pert, pierced nipples. Going by feel alone, he lathered them up, over and over. They were so fucking erect already, it was like Jake already hit peak arousal. Jake tossed his head back and moaned like he was having an orgasm.

"Y-you're faking," stuttered Dirk, but he didn't stop. He did what he'd been wanting to do for two entire fucking weeks: _he pinched those goddamn nipples._ Dirk bit back a moan at the satisfaction of feeling the wet, warm gold flit between his fingers, and tugged at the tips gently. He wished he could see more than the reflection of the metal against the dim ambient light from outside.

Dirk was rock fucking hard. He was definitely getting "gunk on the benches." He had to stop. Nipple pinching was a gateway drug to full on boning, and Dirk knew his horny-sona would be dumb enough to remove Jake's bonds to maximize fuckbility. Although Dirk was more physically competent than Jake, who knows what the guy could do in a pitch black bathhouse with slippery floors.

Dirk dropped his grip in a flash. Jake gasped at the lack of stimulation. "Turn around," rasped Dirk, forcing Jake's shoulders to move. "Turn around. I'm washing your back."

Jake did so with a slight whine, facing away from Dirk and sitting with his legs crossed. Of course, this meant Dirk had to scoot closer to Jake in order to reach him, and that of course meant that Dirk had to get a leg up on the bench in order for his torso to face Jake’s. And this, _of course,_ meant that Dirk had his legs splayed open around Jake’s hips, and Jake’s hands were tied and bound right at the base of Dirk’s pelvis.

Dirk chomped down on his lip, smacked the soap between his hands like he was about to start a boxing match, and began washing Jake’s back with it. Jake splayed his fingers out, and traced the inside of Dirk’s left thigh. Dirk’s breath hitched, Jake’s fingertips glided up and up. Dirk lathered up Jake’s spine, his waist. Jake drew a butterfly light line along the outer edge of Dirk’s labia. Dirk dropped the soap.

“Oh gods,” Dirk stammered, as a wave of shudders flooded through him. He couldn’t move, arousal nailed him to the spot. Jake traced around Dirk’s entrance, barely touching him, and every sensation pumped right into his swollen dick. He wanted it so bad, he wanted a firm grinding hand, anything.

“Inside? Yes?” murmured Jake, circling around Dirk’s entrance again.

Dirk gripped Jake’s arms, near to begging. “Yes, yes, come on.”

Jake pressed his fingers in only enough to get them slick, then gently flicked the throbbing tip of Dirk’s dick. The pleasure that soared through him made him press his face into Jake’s soapy shoulders and moan.

“Dirk,” he whispered, and Dirk could hear the grin. “My piercings.”

Without hesitation, Dirk hugged his body to Jake’s, and slipped his hand down Jake’s pelvis. His dick was easy to find— it was as erect as his goddamn nipples. Dirk slid his palm down the entire length of Jake’s cock, and Jake gave a little moan of approval. He pressed his fingers harder against Dirk, rubbing and massaging and tugging at the small round swell of Dirk’s dick.

Jake was _amazing_ at it. He followed a rhythm, found the sensitive spot right away, sent waves of heat coursing through Dirk. It’d probably only take a couple minutes for Dirk to come. The only thing that kept him grounded was the need to explore Jake while he had the opportunity.

Dirk glided his hand along Jake’s cock, got it all soapy and slick. He rubbed his thumb around the Prince Albert piercing that went through the tip, then lowered his grip to play with the frenum piercing— a barbell just under the glans. He pulled Jake’s skin tight, then dragged his fingers along the utterly smooth base. There was a metal ring spaced just a half inch above where his dick met his pelvis, meant to slam against the front of the vagina when fucking face-to-face. Which, hell yeah. That'd probably feel incredible.

Dirk noted that none of the piercings were for Jake's stimulation. They gave aesthetic enjoyment, probably, but they were clearly meant for the pleasure of his partners.

Dirk had this horrible thought, that Jake used to be someone's sex slave. That all this shit was forced on him, that he didn't want this. It'd explain his look, why he was so soft and so inept at everything, why his branding came in velvet instead of welts. Although he didn't think Jake would be trying to _enthusiastically_ fuck him if that were the case. But he couldn't know. Trauma can do weird things to people.

"Wait. Do you really want this?" Dirk asked, scared. "Do you like this?"

As though in response to his question, Jake shoved two fingers inside Dirk. They slid in quick, and Dirk slammed his face into Jake’s back, fire burning through him.

“Fuck me, I don’t even care, fuck me,” Dirk begged, into Jake’s skin. “Please, Jake, fuck me, I-”

Dirk was interrupted by the door creaking open, and a light shining through the mist. Dirk pulled off and away from Jake, nearly somersaulting over himself to get away, and Jake just plain shrieked.

“Uh, okay, wow, I’m not sure what warranted that reaction,” yelled Tavros over Jake’s scream, leaning through the doorway. He held a glass case lantern. “But maybe you, I guess maybe, thought I was a spooky ghost? It is like, super dark in here, and all. I don’t know why we keep this place open when the moon comes out, but you know how it is.”

Dirk pressed his hands to his face and willed his heart to calm down. Jake crumpled forward, hiking his knees to his chest to hide his massive boner. “Nitram, what the fuck do you want,” groaned Dirk. Everything was throbbing. _Everything._

“Wow! Uh, no need to get persnickety, I just came to relay a message from your captain, because uh, if I failed, she would cut off a leg I didn’t even know I had.” He wiggled his lantern, narrowing his eyes, trying to squint through the steam. “There’s some, like, weird foreign bitch at the tavern? Asking for your boy toy in bondage. Vriska, uh, Captain Serket, said that you need to get down to _Starlight’s End_ to deliver him right away. And she said you’d argue, so she said to tell you that, uh, I’m supposed to put my peg legs in a hole of yours if you don’t get there within eight minutes, and then I’m supposed to put those peg legs in the other dude after that, but I don’t really want to do those things, so…”

Dirk glanced at Jake. There was just enough light from the lantern to see him grinning nervously, or sheepishly, at Dirk. Dirk sighed. “Yeah, okay, tell her we’ll be down in ten.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” said Tavros, and finally fucking left. What a boner killer. Dirk’s head throbbed, and not the one on his dick. 

Dirk slicked his hair back in the wet, hot, dark, clouds of steam. He turned to Jake and told him, voice quivering, “Tonight, later. If you want.”

He couldn’t see Jake, but he imagined Jake nodding. “If you want.”


	5. 10,000 Miles Away

_Starlight’s End_ was a short walk away from the bath house. Once Jake and Dirk finished their ablutions, dried off, and re-dressed, they climbed to the top floor of the building to make the three minute trek to the inn.

Besides for the canals, the Velvet Court offered an extensive hiking path as means to move about. Said hiking path was heavily dependent on weather conditions, upkeep, and personal tastes of the property owner, but it generally worked for short distances. The topmost, indoor floor of almost every building worked as a sort of skyway, where travelers battered through abandoned and barely-maintained spooky attics to find their destination. The wood up there was almost always untreated, there was never any light, the steps between buildings were precarious at best, and they were often booby-trapped.

The walkways to _Starlight’s End_ were so decrepit and splintered Dirk was obligated to give Jake a piggyback over them. Jake’s feet, which Dirk washed in the bath, were only slightly calloused from the ship. If he was as shoe averse in the past as he was now, he’d clearly only walked on plush carpet before he got picked up by pirates. Or didn’t walk at all. His soft precious footsies would get fucking tetanus if he tread on these boards. 

“We have got to get you some boots,” muttered Dirk, bending low to get the both of them beneath a hanging beam covered in spiderwebs. Jake kissed the back of his neck in reply. Warm shivers rolled up his spine, and he nearly dropped Jake. He hoped whatever this lady wanted would be quick, so they could skip to the good parts.

The attic of the _Starlight’s End_ was much more inviting. Kanaya, the innkeeper, used it as a storage room, so most of the space was crowded with locked and chained cabinets. A trapdoor led into the inn proper, and nailed to it was the extensive list of Properly Capitalized rules Kanaya insisted on keeping. Dirk memorized them, but never ended up following them due to pirate shenanigans. He felt bad about it.

He lifted the trapdoor for Jake to hop down, then followed. Most of the inn was rooms, obviously, the top floor consisting of many small cozy accommodations for one. The lower floors held larger rooms for multiple beds, catering to those who wanted cheaper prices and less privacy. Dirk figured he’d rent a single bed tonight, if Kanaya had any available.

It was quite dark, only one lantern in each rickety stairwell, and Dirk led Jake down four flights to the tavern on the main floor. 

They got a good view of the inn, from the top of the stairwell. The tavern was entirely constructed from gray stone, the rocks stolen from a quarry ship a couple centuries ago. There was a bar in the back, where Kanaya cleaned clay mugs, and thin wooden tables were set up all around the walls. Communal tables filled the middle of the tavern, and they were packed with revelers eating and drinking. Candles in little jars littered the tables like fairy lights. It smelled of the sea, and of warm potato soup with cream.

Dirk spied Vriska right away, on the right side of the room, where the crowd wasn’t quite as compact. 

So that was the lady? She looked soft in the way Jake did, someone who didn’t belong amongst pirates or the scum of the earth. He wondered why she was here.

At the closest communal table near the lady, there were a half a dozen burly men and women in prim military uniform, with guns. Although Dirk didn’t know the colors. Red and black and white. He figured they were her bodyguards.

Many of the patrons in the middle span of tables were singing, and they just finished a rousing rendition of some song about huge dangling balls. Karkat was of course among them, and he yelled over the drunken debauchery that they’d be singing _10,000 Miles Away_ next. Dirk swore that nine tenths of Karkat’s leadership skills came from his volume. Karkat started up the shanty, just as Vriska spotted Dirk and Jake on the staircase.

_to the tune of 10,000 Miles Away_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/4LL5K6RPvbQz6CTcHvEwO0)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDw9r8UH4Zw)]

* * *

Hats off for a solemn siblingship  
With a bond for centuries  
With some brother kings and a sister too  
To carry me over the seas  
To carry me over the seas, me boys,  
To their sister far away  
For we’re takin’ a trip to a deity slain  
Ten thousand miles away

_(Chorus)_  
_And now we sing blow, me bully boys, blow_  
_A-rovin’ I will go_  
_I’ll stay no more on safer shores_  
_Or hear the music play_  
_I’m off on a journey vain_  
_And I won’t be back again_  
_We’re takin’ a trip to a deity slain_  
_Ten thousand miles away_

Oh, well, the star king, she was beautiful  
The charts flowed from her hands  
Her eyes were like two emeralds bright  
And blackened was her hair  
And blackened was her hair, me boys  
Until she left one day  
And her siblings still remember her  
Ten thousand miles away

_(Chorus)_

Oh, now dark and dismal was the day  
When last they saw their Jade  
She’d a big metal band around each hand  
And another one around her leg  
And another one around her leg, me boys  
As the black ship sailed away  
And we all know that her corpse will show  
Ten thousand miles away

_(Chorus)_

Oh, I wish I was a foolish boy  
Or a sailor with dumb hope  
I’d man a boat and away I’d float  
An’ straight for the goddess steer  
An’ straight for the goddess steer, me boys  
Where she lived five hundred years  
But hell ‘ll freeze over and pigs will fly  
Ten thousand miles away

_(Chorus)_

Oh, the stars may shine through a deep sea fog  
Or your sea charts made quite clear  
Or the other kings might fight the odds  
And think she’s still alive  
And think she’s still alive, me boys  
On meager dreams and hope  
But I’ll never forget she drowned to death  
Ten thousand miles away

_(Chorus)_

_(Chorus)_

| 

Vriska beamed at Dirk. She waved her hand wildly, pointing towards the woman next to her.

"Strider! Check it out! I think this gal is Jake's sister!" she hollered, loud enough to drown the uproarious singing. "See? They have matching beauty marks on their tits!"

Dirk felt Jake shrink at the sight of his… sister? Dirk had no reason to doubt Vriska’s theory. They looked similar, and the beauty marks clued him in that they were related in some way. Dirk took a hold of Jake’s arm, then yanked him down the stairs and fought through a few sloppy drunk pirates to get to his captain.

When the woman caught sight of Jake, Dirk could almost see the steam shooting out her ears. He guided Jake to stand close to them. Vriska opened her mouth to either do introductions, or to berate Dirk for taking longer than she ordered, but Jake’s sister beat her to the punch.

“Jake!” she screamed, her hands tensing, the veins popping through the tight fabric on her wrists. “Jake! Why are you here in this horrible place, with these evil people!? What ever have you been doing!?”

So she spoke Common, huh. Her accent was as thick as Jake’s had been, with the rs all half-rolled and the os pronounced too round. Jake tried to take a step back from his sister, a scared look on his face, but Dirk held a firm grip on Jake’s arm. He was curious to see who this new woman was. Almost curious enough to delay the sexcapades surely awaiting them on the top floor of the inn.

The woman began ranting in Jake’s language, hurling a tirade of insults and accusations at him. She spoke so fast and so articulate that Dirk could feel the sharpness of her words. Jake’s posture crumpled in more and more, like she was hitting him with a volley of grapeshots and he was forced to take the defensive. He couldn’t look at her as she rage-monologued. The amount of poses she contorted her body into as she yammered on and on was truly astounding. Even Vriska was spellbound.

She swapped to Common at the end of it. She transitioned smoothly into the language, for the exclusive purpose of throwing jabs at Dirk.

"-And why is your hair damp!? What are you even doing, canoodling with these disgusting people!? Look! That man is covered in tattoos!"

"Hey bitch, that man is the finest work of art I have ever seen!" said Vriska, pointing at Dirk with her stump. "Make the ocean do the thing, Dirk!"

Dirk flashed his teeth. He flexed his right pec and made the waves wiggle. Jake's sister was tragically unimpressed. She stared deadpan at Jake. "And you seriously decided this was the most valuable way to spend your time?"

Jake fought through Dirk’s grip and turned around, then held his bound arms towards his sister. He sounded like a whiny child trying to tell a lie. "Ba, la si viapictio! Es occipitia!"

His sister scoffed, clearly not believing whatever he just said. “Do what you want. I’m not helping you. It was a coincidence we wound up in the same locale, nothing more.”

Jake bit his lip, guilty. Sollux took a long swig from his ale, then set the empty mug down on the bar. "Uh, just pointing this out to you huge idiots, did anyone notice that Jake is responding to his sister's Common? Let’s stop and dissect that a little, ‘cuz like-"

"Perhaps because your accents are all terrible and uneducated!" said his sister, with a heavy accent. "I can barely understand you myself! Your voices are as filthy as your appearances!"

"Excuse me!? There is nothing _filthy_ about Captain fucking Serket!" yelled Vriska, batting a tangled, dirty mess of hair out of her eye. "Are you trying to start some shit!? Because we’re on home turf, babe!”

“Maybe I am,” said Jake’s sister, narrowing her eyes. “You told me only the powerful get the attention of the Pirate Queen.”  
  
---|---  
  
Vriska’s mouth split wide, that crazy psycho look consuming her face. As the song drew to a close, Vriska stood up onto the table, cupped her hands around her mouth, and hollered, “BAR FIIIIIIIIGHT!!!!!!!!”

One of Jake’s sister’s bodyguards immediately stood up and punched Equius in the face, with such determination that Dirk decided she’d been planning to do that for hours. Luckily, Equius was a brick shithouse, and he immediately suplexed her into a group of _Starlight’s End_ patrons. This kicked off more rounds of brawling, until the entire tavern erupted into a brutal fistfight. Vriska hurled herself on top of the swarming mass of people, like she was trying to crowdsurf.

Dirk sighed. Dirk didn’t want to fight. Dirk wanted to _fuck._

While Jake’s sister proved an interesting data point that he would muse on later, he was horny, blueballed, and had a firm grip on a hot dude who probably still wanted to fuck him. The stars aligned, and he would not waste this grand opportunity. He dragged an extremely nervous and doe-like Jake through the masses of writhing humanity to the bar. Kanaya was still cleaning her mugs. She didn’t even glance up.

"M'am, should I put a stop to this?" Dirk asked, leaning over the counter towards Kanaya.

"Your concern is appreciated, but no thank you," she replied, just loud enough for her melodic voice to carry over the action packed sounds of ten people getting punched in the face. She put a mug away. "I needed new chairs anyway, and I will gladly milk the money from your crew in the likely case of bar-wide destruction. Rules that are broken come with hefty fees, as you well know."

“Great. Do you happen to have a single room available?”

“Certainly. Pay up front, I trust you will find it satisfactory as usual.”

One fight through the crowd and four flights of stairs later, Dirk unlocked his room with a big metal key and led Jake through. It was quite small, maybe five feet wide by ten feet long, the walls and ceiling and floors constructed entirely of creaky wood. There was space only for a single bed and a plain dresser. Set on top of it was a hand towel, a wash basin, and a presumably-filled pitcher. There was a window facing the canal, so the lantern glow shimmered through the lead-seeped glass and illuminated all the old wood. It was only slightly brighter than the steam room, just light enough to see the expression on Jakes face.

Dirk knew from experience that the walls were quite thin, but they had a corner room, so only one unlucky guest would hear the presumable thump-thump of the bed against the wall. Dirk usually didn’t have a problem constraining his voice, and hopefully Jake wasn’t a screamer, so vocal noise wouldn’t be an issue. 

Taking a deep breath, Dirk locked the door behind them. He felt awkward, turning towards Jake and thinking about asking for sex. How was he going to get that across?

But he didn’t have to open his mouth. Without a word, Jake dropped to his knees before Dirk, leaned forward, and bit down on the front knot of Dirk’s hakama. Jake pulled his head back, yanking a loop out, then bit down on another part of the knot and repeated the same gesture. His intent was clear as crystal. Jake was going to get Dirk undressed without the use of his hands.

“Holy shit,” Dirk blurted, pressing his palms against the door for stability. “You’re kidding.”

Jake was not kidding. The knot came undone with a third pull, and with a couple nudges from Jake’s cheek and a few more tugs with his gapped teeth, the belt fell loose around Dirk’s waist. Jake glanced up over the rims of his glasses. Nighttime shadows shifted across his face. The dark, lustful look in his eyes was a far cry from the fear he showed in the tavern. It was like a switch flicked in his attitude; he went from whining scaredy cat to sultry sex kitten in about five minutes flat.

Not that Dirk minded. He threw his head back against the door and let himself laugh with disbelief. This guy was seriously something. Trying to kill him, then trying to fuck him when that failed. Jake peeled the front of Dirk’s hakama off with his teeth, then worked at the knot of the simple obi keeping his lopsided kimono shut.

The arousal Dirk felt in the bath returned with a vengeance. Jake’s mouth was right at his hips. Through the fabric, he could feel how warm Jake’s skin was. Dirk didn’t know if he wanted Jake to use his tongue piercings or his dick piercings first, but he was happy with either.

Jake pulled the obi off, throwing his head back to toss the long length of it away. The kimono fell open, and Jake took a moment to examine the appearance of Dirk’s junk. Dirk was hard, the swollen bump of his dick clearly visible beneath folds of skin and blond hair. Jake nodded to himself, like he determined a strategy, then flashed his eyes towards Dirk’s. Staring up at him, Jake stuck out his tongue, showing off all three of his piercings. They glinted in the lantern light. Dirk felt his blood pound through him, and he bit his first knuckle to avoid moaning.

Jake licked him like an exhibitionist, showing off what his piercings could do in all the gorey detail. Dirk felt the killer one-two-three punch as each of them caught and rubbed against his dick. Dirk couldn’t resist moaning around his knuckle this time.

After showing off his tongue, Jake didn’t fuck around. He buried his face between Dirk’s legs and latched his mouth to Dirk’s junk. Dirk jolted forward at the sudden, intense pleasure of Jake sucking and licking at his dick, and curled his fingers into Jake’s soft hair for something to hang onto.

It felt so good, like this all over warmth, this merciless and unending arousal. Dirk was too busy trying not to scream to pick out the different sensations, but he thought that Jake wasn’t using all the piercings on him. Jake was just using the one at the very tip to rub him off. Dirk could feel the snakebites pretty clearly, rubbing against his labia, adding to the goddamn fireworks of the whole experience.

This was, genuinely, the most intense oral Dirk ever received. How the fuck did Jake master this so thoroughly? Usually it took a couple go-arounds for Dirk’s partners to figure out how to maximize pleasure for him. Thirty seconds in and Dirk felt so close to coming, his legs threatening to give out, his hands pushing on Jake’s head and trying to pull him closer.

“Fuck, Jake, this is so fucking lame, I think I’m gonna-” stammered Dirk, giving Jake a warning.

Jake forced his way out of Dirk’s grip and pulled back. Dirk had to lean against the door to stabilize himself and avoid falling over. He whined, his body throbbing, aching for release. Jake was panting, looking up at Dirk, slick dripping down his chin.

Jake nodded towards the bed and rasped, “Es iltica.”

“Yeah, fuck, let’s do it on the bed,” stammered Dirk, brushing his hair back with shaking hands. He hurriedly bent down to take off his shoes. Thankfully they were easily removable, and he peeled off the remnants of his clothing in a flash. He left them all in a pile, and just about backflipped onto the bed with the excitement of getting plowed.

He laid on his back, the straw mattress on the simple wood frame rustling under his weight. He was totally naked, while Jake hadn’t taken off a single piece of clothing. Dirk intended to keep it that way.

Jake did not climb on the bed. He stood between Dirk’s spread legs, right next to the frame. His dick would theoretically be right at penetration level if Dirk hooked his legs around Jake’s hips. Alright, so they were going to bang like this, fan-fucking-tastic, Dirk literally could not wait. 

Jake stared down at Dirk, his breaths coming hot and heavy. Dirk sat up and scrambled to lift Jake’s large skirt and get at the goods. He hiked up the skirt, bustle, and petticoat, then raised Jake’s oversized shirt up and out of the way. Jake was fully erect, precome making the piercing at the tip nice and slick and shiny. Still stretching forward a bit so Dirk could see and keep the clothes out of the way, he raised his body and crossed his legs behind Jake’s hips. Jake rocked forward, and his dick frotted nicely against Dirk’s.

Dirk dropped the skirts, so he could lay back on the bed and enjoy the sensation without having to maintain an awkward pose. He didn’t expect Jake to be able to penetrate him without Dirk guiding Jake’s cock, but apparently this righteous sex pot was full of surprises. Jake jerked his hips back, then forward, and Jake pushed right into Dirk’s slick heat. No hands.

Dirk dug his fingers into the mattress, gasping at the sense of being filled. He was so turned on that he wasn’t tight at all, and Dirk felt the piercing at the base of Jake’s pelvis bump up against his dick. Due to the massive size of Jake’s skirt, he couldn’t see what was happening beneath the covers. The hem of Jake’s dress spread all the way to Dirk’s navel.

Jake didn’t fuck into him. Jake’s eyes trawled over Dirk’s body, like he was scrutinizing Dirk’s reactions. And Dirk reacted plenty, shivering and shaking all over as lighting poured through him. He was so close, he was sure he only needed one or two good rubs against his dick.

Jake didn’t thrust at all. Instead, he ground his hips forward, so the base piercing pushed against and massaged Dirk’s dick. Combined with the feeling of penetration, this was enough to drive Dirk over the edge. The delayed orgasm arrived strong, like he’d been edging for hours, and Dirk’s vision blacked out for a moment as his body seized with muscle spasms.

It was only then that Jake started on the proper in-and-out motions of penetration. Dirk was unable to do elementary math as his orgasm rolled through him, but he was certain Jake only lasted a couple thrusts. Huh. Dirk didn’t take him for a two pump chump, but whatever. Still fuckin’ awesome. Jake drew Dirk’s pleasure out as long as he could manage, every push of his hips continuing Dirk’s momentum.

Their orgasms were near simultaneous. Jake’s O-face was as beautiful as the rest of him, his eyes shut and relaxed, his mouth tantalizingly open. Shaking with oversensitivity, Dirk felt Jake’s come flood through him. Which, hell yeah, he was into it. 

That was the shortest and best sex Dirk ever had in his life. It took about three minutes total, from the moment they walked through the door to the moment of release. His brain was all mush, like he’d been tied up and played with for hours and hours. Jake really was something special.

Jake pulled out. Dirk collapsed flat against the bed, his hips hanging off the edge, feet on the floor. Jake sat next to him, and Dirk barely got it together enough to look at him. Jake appeared completely fucking normal, like he hadn’t had sex at all. Like afterglow was a foreign concept to him.

Jake tilted his chin up, then bobbed his head like he was trying to point at something. “La fortusha se appetcito.”

Dirk’s mouth ran off without input from his higher thought processes. “Oh, no, dude, don’t worry about it, I am _so_ sterile. I’ve drank nothing but poison for fifteen years straight, I’m pretty sure your swimmers die on contact.”

Jake muttered something under his breath, frustrated. Dirk was worried he was going to have to play birth control pirate!Pictionary until Jake turned around, showing off his bonds behind his back. “Just take the damn ropes off already. I want to make love to you again.”

Dirk blinked at him, slowly. Something was wrong with that sentence, but Dirk’s brain was too fucked into submission to figure out what it was. A second round sounded incredible, he’d be up for it.

Dirk forced his noodle-limp body to move, and undid the heavy knot around Jake’s wrists. The bonds slid off, and Jake tossed the rope into the corner of the room, grinning. He stretched out his arms, then pushed up his skirts so he could get his left hand under there. Dirk couldn’t see what he was doing, but it looked like he was jerking off or massaging himself or something. Weird. Didn’t he just come?

With his other hand, Jake reached over and slid two fingers inside Dirk. He could barely feel the sensation due to oversensitivity, but Jake didn’t play with him. Jake drew them back out immediately. Without blinking or looking away, Jake stared Dirk dead in the eye and slowly, languidly, licked his fingers clean of the total drippy mess left by both himself and Dirk. Dirk's whole body shivered.

"Dude," Dirk said, in total awe. "That's fucking _filthy._ And I am extremely turned on by it, good god, please-"

Jake did it again, getting another dollop of sex liquids on his fingers and then sucking them clean of it. Jake pulled back his skirts and exposed himself. He was hard again. Not even a half-assed hard, it was a full, statuesque sort of hard that should not happen immediately after coming.

“Come on Dirk,” he purred. “Come sit on my lap.”

Dirk felt the heat of arousal pump through him again, and without hesitation or thinking it over, he sat up. He swung his leg over Jake’s hips, backwards, so he was not facing Jake. He lowered himself, and Jake’s dick slid in easy. He could feel the piercings a little more, now that his body wasn’t quite as overcome by lust. They felt good, sliding inside him, rubbing against his g-spot on the way in.

Once Dirk was properly seated, Jake hugged him around the waist. He leaned forward, pushing his lips right against Dirk’s ear.

"How many rounds can your body take?" whispered Jake, his voice resonating within Dirk like a timpani. "I'm thinking nine! You seem like a nine-r. Would you like to place your bets?"

It took a couple seconds for Dirk's sexed-up brain to finally figure out what was wrong with what Jake just said. Actually, something was wrong with this whole situation. Oh, shit, he probably shouldn’t have taken Jake’s bonds off. "Wait, Jake, Jake, how much Common can you speak?"

"Shh, shh," said Jake. "I speak only the language of love."

"Shut the fuck up, that is some cheesy cornball shiiii- ah-"

Jake grabbed Dirk’s wrists, held them steady, and bucked his hips up. Dirk lost his fucking mind. He choked out a loud moan, every fear and logical argument erased by the guarantee of a round 2 just as satisfying as the first.

It was going to be a long and bumpy night.


	6. The Tune Wot (Instrumental)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _mood music for this chapter: The Tune Wot/Intermission_  
>  [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/3glvURJuSNFGPQKyMBygaw)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Khv_wMKHLk)]

They did not stop fucking.

It was insane. Dirk hadn't done this since he was sixteen and Terezi bought him a daypass to the all-you-can-bone man brothel. Dirk didn't even think he was capable of doing this anymore, but hell, for once he didn't mind being wrong. He was certain that at orgasm #3 his body was tricked into becoming a nymphomaniac, because he craved everything Jake had to give. Getting pounded into the mattress in the dark, then the early morning light, the bed thumping against the wall, his brain sexed into pliancy, and his barriers lowered enough for him to scream and moan with reckless abandon... fuck, it was divine.

They did everything under the sun that didn’t involve toys or ropes or dirty talk. PIV sex in a wild array of positions, mutual masturbation, anal, oral… Jake even took off his piercings so Dirk wouldn’t knock his teeth when sucking him off. They cleaned themselves when appropriate with the water from the pitcher, and took intermittent power-naps as the night went on, but most of the time was spent indulging in constant depravity.

Dirk’s thought processes were reduced to primitive grunting and sex-related urges the whole night, but he did notice a couple odd things. Jake, while obviously enjoying it, never seemed to get as passionately into the fuckenings as Dirk did. Jake also stopped orgasming after a certain point, but somehow maintained an erection when Dirk needed it. Dirk didn’t know if he made it to nine rounds. He fell dead asleep just before dawn, while Jake fucked him gently in missionary. 

He woke up when bright daylight shone through the window. His first Common-language thought in six hours was a mental reminder to tip the shit out of Kanaya, who changed the bedding. The room reeked of sex.

Dirk shifted on the sole pillow in the small, single bed. Jake held him beneath the knit blanket, their naked bodies pressed tight to one another. Jake still slept, breathing gently, his gorgeous eyelashes fluttering in mid-dream.

Dirk felt more relaxed than he’d been in a very long time, even though he got, at the maximum, four hours of sleep. It was hard to think, his body and mind and heart were so fucked, literally and metaphorically. He wanted to lay back on the straw bed and hold Jake the whole morning and afternoon. But looking at Jake’s sleeping face, Dirk felt the encroaching sense that something was very off about last night. 

Oh, yeah, they didn’t kiss _one single time._ How’d they even manage that, anyway? It was too bad, he wanted to play with Jake’s tongue piercings a little. 

Dirk’s plan to fall back asleep was rudely broken by the muffled sounds of Karkat yelling something at the other end of the hallway, probably in the stairwell. He heard Vriska’s voice yelling right back. A thought itched in the back of his mind, like he forgot something important.

Everything came to him in a flash, all the worries and tenseness of real life flooded through his muscles and woke him up better than a dense, dark cup of coffee. First of all, he was supposed to be at a meeting with the pirate queen soon, if he wasn’t already late. Secondly, he was going to be ruthlessly mocked by every member of the crew for _years_ if they found out that he freed and fucked a guy less than 24 hours after said guy tried to murder him. 

“Shit!” he hissed, his heart hammering with adrenaline. He jerked up to a sitting position. Jake didn’t wake, he instead moaned something and rolled over. Dirk jumped out of bed, ran his fingers through his hair, snatched his kimono and obi, threw it on and made sure the neckline was situated to hide the probable hickeys, then tied it shut. Dirk unlocked the door, took the key out, and stepped into the hallway before Vriska and Karkat got near. He locked the door behind him.

They were talking in the stairwell. Vriska spotted Dirk, waved to him, and walked through the narrow, wooden hallway to get close to him. Karkat opted to fold his arms and stay in the stairwell.

"Hey, Strider, glad you’re up and at ‘em, I was worried you would oversleep! Say do you know where Jake went last ni-" 

The sole of Vriska's boot pressed into the edge of a long creaky floorboard, and it swung up vertically and smacked her square in the face. It looked like an unoriginal newspaper cartoon gag. The crack of the wood against her skull made a noise that Dirk winced at, although he didn't have long to empathize. Two nails from the end of the board flew off, ricocheted against the side wall, and then bulleted into Dirk's forehead-- blunt end first. They bounced off his skull into the soft folds of his kimono. Hurt like a mild headache overtook him, and he pressed his palms into the painpoints in complete disbelief.

The board flopped back into its place. Vriska was left looking shellshocked, a rectangular flush on her face. Karkat proceeded to point and laugh at the two of them.

"Holy shit, that was the best thing I've woken up to in years! You dunderheads should put on a slapstick show like that every morning, it'd be great for morale!" He shrugged then, collecting himself. "Thanks for the bit, anyway. I'm off to be the first one at Terezi’s meeting to get those juicy pirate brownie points."

Karkat headed down the stairs. On the second step, there was a noise like a thousand twigs snapping, and the two boards broke beneath his weight. He was at least agile enough to throw most of his balance onto the step in front of him, but it didn't stop him from getting his back leg stuck in the hole. He tried to pull himself out, but ended up jamming himself further into the wood.

"You think my incredible luck took a nap today?" asked Vriska, staring at Karkat's useless flailing. "Or is this just, like, mobius double reacharound karmic justice 'cuz Vantas was a Vant-ass?"

"I'm inclined to go with the latter," said Dirk.

"Fuck both of you and help me!" hissed Karkat.

They helped Karkat out of the hole. Dirk convinced Vriska he’d gotten a bed for Jake, and would go collect him and bring him to Terezi’s throne. Vriska left, and safe with the knowledge that his crime had been swept under the rug, he returned to his room.

The adrenaline from the fear of discovery faded, and without the rush, Dirk felt incredibly sore. It was uncomfortable to walk, and he was pretty sure he was chafed literally fuckin’ everywhere. Still worth it though.

Jake was awake, sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes clear of sleep. For a moment, Dirk was distracted by the beautiful body, his somehow perfect hair, his flawless skin, those fucking nipples… But without sex, and without the rush of adrenaline, realization smacked Dirk in the face like a sack of bricks.

Fuck his horny self, fuck it right in the puckered, unprepped asshole. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been wronged so willfully and so thoroughly, once again a victim of his own shitty, passionate self?

A calm, quiet rage built up in the pit of Dirk’s stomach. Thank the fucking gods for that. He was familiar with the feeling, he reveled in it, it allowed him to re-purpose his self-hate as an outward force of destruction. It gave him the tools to play up the mask of badassery that he crafted over the decades for himself. It was the kind of quiet rage that allowed him to be a pirate, allowed him to be ruthless and bloody and violent, allowed him to torture captains of merchant ships that specialized in human trafficking. With enough of this rage, Dirk could rip the fingernails off somebody one by one and not feel a single ounce of sympathy.

Dirk reached into the sleeve of his kimono. He found a stiletto, and said, calmly, “Why did you pretend you couldn’t speak Common?”

Jake blinked at him, yawned, then said, “Enpana becochi.”

Dirk expected this. He pulled the knife from his sleeve. He unsheathed it, slowly, letting the blade glint in the sun. He flipped it over the back of his hand, playing with it, doing a knife trick to build tension. Jake’s innocent look wilted, but only a little.

“One more time,” said Dirk. He flipped the knife again, casually. “Why did you pretend you couldn’t speak Common?”

Jake’s eyes flickered from the knife to Dirk. He said, voice cracking, “Es pento se letrifitronan.”

“Are you trying to gaslight me?” asked Dirk. He held it in a grip meant for slashing, meant for cutting the arteries on the edges of the torso. He wouldn’t do shit to him, not until they saw the pirate queen, but Jake didn’t have to know that. “Honestly, it might have worked if you demonstrated your linguistic talents _only_ when we were alone, but you proved your fluency in the tavern, with your… sister? Is she your sister? I have so many questions and I want all of them answered, Jake. And I’ve learned, finally, that you _can_ answer them.”

Jake inhaled sharp, but didn’t say anything else. Dirk approached the bed, and Jake backed himself against the wall, trying to be as small as possible. Dirk followed him with the point of the knife, and pressed it right to Jake’s throat. He did not push, or cut, but applied just enough pressure to be frightening. Instead of shitting the bed with fear, Jake’s mouth split into a grin. It was a nervous, shaking grin, but still a fucking grin. Jake was only a little bit scared, at best.

Dirk wondered why he wasn’t terrified. Perhaps Dirk wasn’t threatening enough? That Jake saw through him? But the knife was sharp, and Dirk knew he looked mad because he _felt_ mad, so Jake had to know some kind of punishment was coming. He went down another train of thought: he remembered the powers Jake exhibited. The light at sea, the resurrection, the glowing compass in the captain’s cabin. A wild theory occurred to him.

“Can you even die?” Dirk wondered.

Jake didn’t answer, just grinned. The corner of his mouth twitched.

Dirk would go down a different route, then. He sheathed his stiletto. “I’ll make sure to let the pirate queen know. She’s huge on experimentation. I wonder how many times she can kill you before you break.”

 _That_ made his grin vanish. His eyes opened wide. Bingo.

Dirk picked up the pile of Jake’s clothes in the corner and threw them at him. “Get dressed, or we’ll be late for a meeting and you’ll be skinned alive for it. Literally. So I’ll tie you up, and I’ll take you to a gondola, and we’ll head right over and we’re going to pretend like nothing fucking happened. Alright?”

Jake swallowed audibly. He stared at his clothes, dug out his shirt, and put it on. Dirk proceeded with the rest of his get-ready activities— fixing his hair, dumping the gross-ass sex water in the basin out the window, pouring a new basins worth of water to wash his face with, scrubbing his teeth with the toothbrush he had on him at all times, and putting the rest of his clothes on. Jake did the same sort of routine, and he let himself be tied up without argument. Dirk made sure to hurl a handful of crowns at Kanaya before exiting _Starlight’s End._

Dirk flagged down a gondola to carry them to the pirate throne. He kept a firm grip on Jake's arm for the entire ride, in case Jake tried to dash. He didn't. He followed Dirk's guidance calm and willing, although he no longer smiled.

While the island wasn't mountainous, there was a steep slope on the north portion, a hill of volcanic rock that had long since crusted over. On top of the hill was a lighthouse, the first building ever constructed in the Velvet Court, and the only one not crafted by pirates. The names of the original makers long since faded into time, but their spiraling creation of white stone weathered the long centuries.

The gondola wound them through the mess of canals, and dropped Dirk and Jake off at a long, thin, white stair that cut through the hill. It was as old as the lighthouse, and the stone was worn in the center from thousands of previous footsteps. Jake looked starstruck again, staring up at the bonfire roaring atop the lantern room. Dirk tugged Jake from the boat and ascended.

The bottom floor of the lighthouse was the throne room for the queen. Council rooms and Terezi’s personal quarters were up higher, but the last and only time Dirk saw them was when he helped Terezi pull her successful coup. He was fine with that. The throne room had more than enough amenities to receive an audience, and even though he liked Terezi a whole lot, he didn’t need to visit her room.

Terezi's staff opened the bright red doors for Jake and Dirk. The hall was intended for comfort as opposed to lavishness. The entire round room was filled to the brim with soft blankets, rugs, pillows, and draping fabrics in a blinding spread of colors and patterns. The curved walls were lined with trophies and weapons, some valuable, others physically worthless but emotionally priceless. The one feature that screamed royalty was the large pearl and brass chandelier they stole from a ballroom long ago. The many crystal baubles hanging from it caught the light from the windows and scattered rainbow reflections all across the large, circular room.

Terezi Pyrope, the forty third pirate queen of the Velvet Court, waited in the back of the room. She stood next to her right hand man and trade route adviser, a former merchant whose psychopathy made him more cut out for pirating. He liked big fuckin’ guns and he liked using them, and Terezi let him have both.

Feferi hadn't arrived yet, but other than that, Dirk and Jake were the last ones in. They walked to the back of the room, where the group gathered. Dirk dropped Jake's arm to salute Eridan, and Jake shuffled off stage right to go examine a stuffed zebra head mounted on the wall.

Everyone was lounging around on the pillows, at ease in the presence of their former crewmember. Vriska sat as spread and stretched out as she could possibly manage, taking up way more pillows than she needed. Aradia laid face down and stick straight on top of a nest of blankets. Nepeta looked especially cozy, snuggled up with two of the fluffy cats that lived in the lighthouse.

Dirk decided he'd sit next to Equius. He took a couple steps, his foot caught on a blanket, and he thoroughly face planted into the floor. It was a good thing everything was so soft, otherwise he probably would have broken his nose. He peeled himself off, embarrassed. Karkat started clapping.

"Good bit, good bit," he said, from the pillow throne he constructed for himself. "You're just full of funny pratfalls today, huh?"

Dirk whipped out a middle finger, then sat up. He was too ashamed of his klutziness to stand up again, so he decided this spot in the back of the group was fine. He grabbed the nearest round cushion, decked out in swirling patterns of gold thread, and shoved it under his sore ass. Jake, seemingly worried after seeing Dirk fall, scampered over to sit down next to him. Terezi tapped her sword on the floor to begin the meeting.

“Long time no see! Welcome home, everyone!” said Terezi, staring dead ahead. “I think everyone’s here but Peixes! Correct?”

Terezi was blind, but she had some kind of bizarre sixth sense that Dirk couldn’t ever discern the details of. It had something to do with her eyes. She said the Dead King gave them to her, long ago, but Dirk assumed she made that up. The god was next to impossible to contact, unless you wanted to lose body parts and/or your life. She still had all her body parts, as far as Dirk could tell.

“So, I suppose I could start this all off with plain old business, how you tasty morsels have topped the heart line and made the diamond line our most profitable trade route to pillage and plunder,” Terezi paused, for some cheers. Most everyone clapped. Roxy wolf whistled. Sollux whooped. 

“But! Captain Serket informed me of your little rescue mission, and subsequent unscrupulous assassination attempt, so we’re going to start with… mysterious Mr. Limeade Razzle Dazzle!” Terezi flung her arm out to point… _almost_ at Jake. Eridan bumped her arm slightly to the left with the muzzle of his harpoon gun.

Jake furred up like a cat. He glanced around at all the crew, eyes flicking back and forth in a panic. He looked at Dirk, for help or something, but Dirk just shrugged.

“Now, I am privy to some information that you rubes neglected to glean,” said Terezi, grinning like Vriska. “Thanks, in part, to that illegal brawl you started in poor, sweet, precious Maryam’s tavern. I talked to Jake English’s sister this morning, and found out some _interesting_ evidence I will now present before the court.” 

Jake was trying not to react, but now that Dirk knew he understood Common, the signs were clear. Jake was a twitchy dude, and he was trying to still the nervous shaking of his arms by pressing them tight against the small of his back. Dirk could not fucking wait for Terezi to tear him apart.

“First off, Princess Jane wanted my attention in order to ask me about contacting our beloved Kings,” said Terezi, her grin disappearing. “I thought the question odd. Suspicious, even. I traded information for information, a tit-for-tat.”

Dirk thought of John. He was by far the easiest to get in touch with, albeit the process of contacting him meant wishing real hard and randomly bumping into him. Vriska narrowed her eye, he supposed she was thinking of the same thing. “What’d you tell her?”

“Sea King you must go through five years of ritual training, Dead King you must die for, Star King’s dead…” Terezi rattled off. She paused before listing John, building tension like the dramatic fuck she was. “And the Wind King’s hideaway is on some far off corner of the map, a two months journey westward, but she would certainly find him there.”

Vriska laughed, uproariously. “I love it! Mother would have fricking tarred you for that lie!”

“Now, I’m not sure if she believed me. She’d be a fool to trust a pirate,” said Terezi, tapping her nails against the blade of her sword. “But nonetheless, I think the question itself provided an important clue to the nature of your jingly tag-along friend. But put a pin in that. I’ve got some more sweet deets.”

Terezi paced back and forth, treading over soft pillows and a squeaky dragon toy. “She presented herself as a Princess, the kingdom of which I could not get her to admit to, and she also confirmed that the metallic tasting boy with you is her legitimate brother. So, it’s safe to assume you are in the presence of royalty!”

Everyone turned to look at Jake. Dirk watched a bead of sweat drip down his temple, beneath the frames of his glasses. He tried to smile like he had no idea what was going on, but he had a hard time acting.

A prince? Dirk could see it. Super spoiled and soft, knows the theory of poison but never implemented it before, amazed to be around pirates at first but then the color of it wears off when it’s all hard work and grime… But it didn’t explain the collar, the piercings, the sex and servitude thing. He wondered if Jane lied to Terezi about being a princess.

“I thought about jailing him up and asking for a major ransom!” said Terezi, happily. “However! She seemed very eager to punish him! Apparently this boy ran away from home and killed five hundred of their own men!” 

Jake fucking wilted. He gave no pretense of ignorance. He put his knees up to his chest and hid his face in the bustle of his skirt.

“And I can corroborate that with the evidence Vriska relayed, of watching the ship explode!” said Terezi, leaning forward on her sword, getting all excited. “But the _how,_ the _method_ of murder… it is quite out of left field. Are you all ready?”

Terezi leaned forward even more, like she was trying to tell a tale to a bunch of enraptured children. “Get this. Mr. Scurvy Prevention Lime is under some sort of… Jane called it a blessing but it sounds much more like a _curse!_ The curse he is under is as follows: Once English makes love to a poor target, they and everyone around them are doomed to perish.”

Dirk froze. Time stopped, his skin went cold, his heart fell into a bottomless void. He could barely breathe. He struggled to move his head, to look at Jake, but Jake still hid his face in his skirts.

"Soooooooo..." mused Vriska. "He gives you the clap?"

"It's not the clap, you little tart," hissed Terezi. She leaned back, putting a finger to her chin. "Jane was purposefully unclear on the details, and did not even touch on how he procured such a fantastical curse— if this story is even true. But as far as I can deduce it's more like... bad luck. The fuck-ee becomes a catalyst for fatal accidents until they inevitably die from a piano falling on their head. Whomsoever gets English’s rattly dick put in them will become a beacon of misfortune for those in the immediate area!"

That was him, then. Doomed to be a beacon of misfortune. And this wasn’t some light shit, either. Dirk remembered how the ship Jake was on _fucking exploded,_ and he’d bet his wild collection of pirate hats he never wears that Jake fucked someone on that boat. And that person wandered down into the powder hold, and there was an accident, probably a series of accidents, and a catastrophic explosion consumed everyone on the gigantic galleon.

He didn’t want to do that to his friends.

"That's pretty fucked up. Poor Jake, honestly," said Karkat, not looking all that sad about it. "But good for him for not sticking his dick in the first wet hole our crew presented to him on a silver platter. Fucking kudos."

Dirk couldn’t control how shaky his breath was coming out. He did his best to stay stoic. He had to figure out how to leave the room without causing suspicion, go to the ocean alone so his bad luck vibes wouldn’t affect his fuckin’ family.

"So, hold up," said Vriska, gesturing like she was trying to sell a horse. "What counts as sex? Like, what if he only puts the tip in and then you get interrupt-cucked by Equius? Does that count?"

"Or oral? What if it's just oral?" Nepeta offered.

"What if it's weird kink shit?" asked Roxy. "Like that no-sex no-orgasm gimp suit roleplay stuff?"

“And why is it sex based, anyways?” asked Karkat, critical of the tale. “What kind of dark-ass motherfucking fairy cast some ‘bibbity bobbity boo, no cocks for you’ sex spell on him?

“Bitch! Do I look like I fucking know? No,” Terezi snapped. “But I have a wild theory. Vriska, you said he exhibited other powers, correct?”

“Yeah, like, one or two.”

“Wonderful!” Terezi jerked her head _almost_ towards Jake, and bellowed, “Jake! Hey! Wake up!”

Jake snapped his head up. His face flushed a little, embarrassed. If Dirk didn’t die in this fucking room from, like, the fire in the lighthouse falling six floors and burning them all alive, he was going to _kill Jake English._

Terezi gestured at Jake, a ‘come here’ motion. “I want a good feel of you! I want to test something!”

Jake, hesitant, and refusing to look at Dirk, stood up on shaky legs. He slowly walked the fifteen feet to Terezi. When he was close enough, she reached out as though to touch his face.

The door slammed open. Everyone swiveled around to look. Feferi stood in the entryway, hair unbrushed and clothes lopsided. She stifled a yawn, then proceeded to crumple her face into a frown and yell, "Oh my cod, I am so sorry I overslept! I was next to Dirk’s room and he was fucking Jake ALL NIGHT and it was SO GLUBBIN' LOUD! Ugh!" She narrowed her eyes at Dirk and made an accusatory fishy face at him. "Like Dirk was screaming and Jake was going at it SO HARD I coulda sworn the wall was gonna come down! Like they didn't even glubbin' stop, you guys, it just kept goin' and goin'! For six hours! SIX HOURS!"

Dirk felt the accusatory glare of every single person in that room like a round of bullets. Vriska had her mouth hanging open like she just learned her beloved pet dog died. Dirk dragged his nails down his cheek. He wanted to turn into dust and drift away and never be found again.

Feferi shut the door behind her, angrily. The frame rattled with the force of it, and the vibrations cascaded up towards the ceiling. There was a second of jingling, all the baubles of the chandelier rattling, and Equius yelled, "Feferi!"

She jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blast radius of the great chandelier as it crashed to the ground. There was nothing delicate on it, nor any flame due to the early hour, and the entire gold monstrosity remained fairly intact as it settled into the floor. A couple candles flopped off their holders in the moments following, a shocked silence purveying the room.

Terezi was the first one to recover. Her mouth snapped into a perfect flat line, like a rubber band retracting. Instead of reaching for Jake’s face, she grabbed his shoulders, said, “Move this way, Jake, would you?” and guided him to stand against the back wall. He blinked at her, wide eyed and confused.

She smacked Eridan’s shin with the flat of her sword. “Ampora, do the honors.”

Eridan stood, swung his harpoon gun over his shoulder, took half a second to aim, and shot Jake through the chest. The spear ejected with a flash of pneumatics, penetrated Jake’s spine, and embedded itself in the wall behind him. Jake didn’t even have time to scream. It pinned his lifeless body up like an insect diorama. His head lolled forward, his limbs went limp, some liquids trickled out of his mouth. If he wasn’t dead on impact, he’d be dead in under a minute.

Eridan opened the long chamber of the gun and loaded another spear into it. Dirk stood and threw his arms up in surrender, more than willing to be shot on the spot.

"Wait! Wait, no, Terezi, babe, Queen, sis’," said Vriska, clamoring off her pillows and diving in front of Dirk. “Let’s think this over for a minute! Why kill my first mate, my partner in crime, my right hand man!? We don’t know the juicy details of the curse! What if, uh, what if his corpse still gives off the bad luck vibes!? Killing him here won’t do anything!”

Terezi smacked Eridan’s shin with her sword again, and he stopped reloading the gun. “I wasn’t planning on it. Although, Strider, if you were not my friend, I want you to know that I would not hesitate to end your life.”

“It’s fine. I deserve it,” Dirk said.

“Wow! Gloomy much?” Terezi teased, apparently not that pissed at Dirk. “Anyway, take him out back immediately, I want him away from the lighthouse, nowhere near any civilized part of the Velvet Court, and I will join you shortly for discussions on what to do. Oh, and someone pry this corpse off my wall and take him out too. If he’s even a corpse at all.”


	7. Simple Cobbler

Dirk took it upon himself to carry Jake's corpse down to the beach. Instead of dealing with digging out the hook through Jake's insides, Dirk picked up Jake under the armpits and slid him off the handle, like getting a ring off a peg. Dirk carried him bridal style to avoid staining his kimono. Jake was fairly light, considering how tall he was.

They exited through a secret door in the back of the lighthouse, hidden behind a dragon tapestry. On this side, there wasn't a staircase along the volcanic rock slope. They made the steep downhill trek to the shoreline without aid. Dirk was paranoid that he or his friends would trip and fall and hit their heads, drown, get attacked by sharks, or get pecked to death by the swarms of seagulls flapping about. But nothing happened. Suspiciously nothing.

The edge of the island was a solid shoreline of black rock, with no beach. The waterline was close to the dropoff point. The depth of the ocean was unfathomable and dangerous, and although the waters weren't too bad at the moment, it would be suicide to go for a swim here. It smelled of salt and drying seaweed.

Jake wasn't bleeding when they reached the shore. The hole was pink, and still deep, but it didn't appear as though it went all the way through any longer. Dirk was maybe a little bit more relieved than he should have been, that Jake was clearly healing.

Dirk convinced everyone but Vriska to stay away from him. They migrated further down the shoreline, and like they often did when they were waiting or bored, Aradia started up a song to keep them entertained. Dirk could barely hear them sing over the soothing roar of the tide against the dried lava.

_to the tune of William Taylor_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/7exHexxGSCOoREh2m1BKF6)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5SRlBEc5nc)]

* * *

I'll sing you a song about two true lovers,  
and their wanton deals with death.  
The young man was a simple cobbler,  
the young lass's name was Anna Beth.

_(Chorus)_  
_Faradiddle-lum, dae-a rai-a_  
_Faradiddle-lum, domme daerai dae_

They knew they wanted to get married,  
But Anna was a pirate free.  
The cobbler waited for his lover,  
She had been six months at sea.

_(Chorus)_

Anna's captain came to the lad,  
knocking at the cobbler's door.  
"Your lover died in maritime battle,  
She has wandered to death's shores."

_(Chorus)_

The cobbler's heart did break in two,  
How his very soul did sting.  
He cut off his own right leg  
to summon Anna's Dead King.

_(Chorus)_

The Dead King came in swarms of crows,  
Around him the wood decayed.  
He stared down at the bleeding cobbler,  
His eyes were like sunken caves.

_(Chorus)_

The cobbler begged for Anna's life.  
In reply the Death King did say,  
_(spoken) "Uh, hell no? What did you think was going to happen? I'm the god of death, not the god of dispensing arbitrary resurrections to whatever random fuckboy who wants one."_  
_"I'll take that dismembered leg though, if you don't want it. Thanks dude, you've got some nice fuckin' gams."_

_(Chorus)_

Meanwhile on the Isle of the Dead,  
Anna rose from her charnel boat.  
She fought through sleep to climb white walls  
And throw herself at the King's frock coat.

_(Chorus)_

She asked to reunite the lovers  
And Death granted her brazen request,  
_"I mean, look, the dude cut off his own leg for you --I have it right here, check out this fine ankle, damn-- so I took a peek at his fate threads or whatever and there's like a near 100% chance he's going to die of straight gangrene in two months."_  
_"Anyway I'll bend some rules and get your non-pirate a bf a boat or whatever. Feel free to hang out here instead of moving on, there's a buffet table and ping pong and everything. Besides, I’m a sucker for reunions."_

_(Chorus)_

Anna sat on the white shores,  
To wait for him to meet his end.  
Who better than the Dead King to know,  
Death's less scary when with friends.

_(Chorus)_

_(Chorus)_

| 

Dirk sat with Vriska near the very edge of the isle, just where the rock began to glisten with water, with Jake’s body laying limp between them. The sprays of the sea burst over the edge of the black shore like handfuls of confetti. 

“You really should get away from me,” said Dirk. “Until I figure out what to do.”

Vriska leaned back on her arm, and gestured at Dirk with her hook, all nonchalant. “Blah blah, you’re the biggest ball of bad luck ever, sure fine whatever. I’m seriously going to toss you to the sharks for this one, especially if you keep complaining, but _first_ I’ll settle for tossing English to the sharks. Over and over and over.”

They both looked down at Jake’s chest wound. Still pretty fuckin’ dead, but the hole was bright pink, and pulsing in a grotesque fashion. Like his lungs were starting to work again.

“Besides,” continued Vriska. “Your luck clearly isn’t _that_ bad! I mean, we were AOK walking down here! Nothing shitty happened since the chandelier fell. It probably doesn’t work when he’s dead!”

“Maybe,” said Dirk, thinking it over. He ran through the series of events that occurred since this morning. The only incidents of bad luck he could recall was the slapstick in the hallway after Dirk woke up, tripping on the carpet when Jake was looking at a game trophy, and the chandelier incident. Dirk was completely fucking fine during the entire boat ride to the lighthouse, which should have been where the bad luck hit hard.

“Hey, wait,” said Dirk, a light flicking on in his head. “Is it distance based?”

Vriska raised her eyebrow. Dirk stood up, then slowly inched himself sideways along the shore, away from the corpse. He made careful steps, like treading on eggshells.

He didn’t get very far. Once he was about five feet away from Jake, a rogue wave crashed against the rock, lurched up, and struck Dirk full in the torso. Dirk lost his footing, beefed it on the shore, and hit his ass hard against the rock. He was left soaked, bruised, and proven correct.

He crab walked back towards Jake, dripping wet. At least his hair didn’t get ruined. And at least there was a solution to the problem, albeit an unpleasant one. A weight came off his shoulders. “Yeah, think it’s distance based. Just gotta chain myself to him.”

“Great, I’ll buy you a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.” Vriska swiveled around to call towards the group. “Hey team! We’re good! Dirk’s not cursed if he’s all grinding up in Jake’s business!”

“Gross!” Roxy yelled, in the middle of the song. Equius waved to Vriska, to acknowledge they heard her.

“Wonder how that works?” asked Vriska, rhetorically. “Is Jake the good luck beacon to your bad luck beacon? But during our journey our luck was as great as per usual, Jake didn’t improve shit.”

They glanced down at him again. The skin was fully healed, but Jake still wasn’t breathing. His eyes were half open in a weird, dead way. Dirk didn’t want to lean over and check his heart for fear of Jake violently bursting into life like he did on the _Black Diamond._

“Did I tell you I confirmed he can speak Common? That he was playing us?” Dirk asked Vriska.

Vriska blinked at him, then her mouth spread into a wide grin, the slit of her burn opening it up to impossible lengths. “No, you didn’t.”

Jake jolted beneath them, like he was mid-seizure. His eyes opened, rolled to the whites, and he gasped as breath shoved its way through him. His ribcage expanded and contracted with force, like someone was pumping it, and he shot up to a sitting position. He squeezed his eyes shut and wheezed like he was having an attack.

“Wakey wakey eggs and bakey,” sung Vriska, still grinning. “We’ve got a lot to go over together, sleepyhead.”  
  
---|---  
  
The crew shuffled over, their song finished. They gathered around the three, standing in a circle. Jake coughed a couple times, recovering. He looked around, got his bearings, then peered innocently at Vriska. His bright green eyes fluttered at her.

Vriska cleaned out the underside of her pinky nail with her hook. “So, Jake. English. If that _is_ your real name. Do you have anything to say for yourself? Now’s the time.”

Jake blinked, vapid. Vriska threw out her arms in an over-exaggerated shrug and gestured towards the crew. “Still playing dumb, huh? I’ll defer to the fam! Democracy and all. Hey, guys, we have a prisoner who cursed poor sweet dear precious Strider, and who we can kill infinite times. What should we do?”

“Let’s eviscerate him and see what he grows back!” cheered Aradia.

“Let’s flog him, again and again and again…” said Dirk, reaching over and patting Jake’s thigh.

“Let’s skin him and tan him for bookbinding,” suggested Feferi.

“Let’s tie him up, take him upstairs, and then drop him from the lighthouse. Splat,” said Sollux.

“Let’s string him up naked and test out our blunderbusses on him,” said Roxy.

“Let’s just throw him in the brig, you degraded psychopaths,” grumbled Karkat.

“Let’s cut off his dick, roast it, and make him eat it,” said Vriska, her grin spreading to her ears.

Jake shivered, like a chill ran up his spine, but he kept up the act as best he could. Vriska pouted at him, and said in a fake whiney voice, “Still nothing? Aww. What should we do to make him talk?”

There was a moment of silence as the crew thought this over.

“Does he still cancel out the bad luck if Dirk’s only close to one single part of him?” asked Aradia.

“Yeah, like, how much does Dirk need of him to cancel it out?” asked Sollux. “Let’s run some tests before we play ragdoll physics.”

“I’ll make a necklace out of his teeth for Dirk to wear!” said Nepeta, giddily.

Vriska winked, which looked terrible considering she only had one eye. “I’m still attached to the castration idea! I think Dirk would _love_ it if we gave him a nice package for a present.”

Dirk shot Vriska a judgey glare for her horrible joke, but apparently that was the straw that broke the proverbial Jake’s back. He jerked himself into a ball, hiked his knees up, jammed his head into his legs, and strained his arms against his bonds. He shouted into his knees. He talked fast as lighting, his heavily accented words rolling like the tide.

“No no no no! That’s not how it works at all! It comes from my heart and soul, I have to be alive and there is no point in marring me for testing purposes, ha ha! My dears you are making me _very_ nervous encroaching on my space here and I would very much appreciate it if you would take two to four large steps back! Please please please _please please please!”_

It was weird to hear him speak Common outside of a seductive context. He talked much faster than the purring, sexy tone he used in the bedroom. It didn't fit Dirk's image of Jake at all.

There was a collective groan of realization from the crew. They simultaneously flashed back to all the embarrassing shit they said in front of him. Roxy pouted and looked upset with herself. Nepeta buried her face in her hands.

"Jake," said Dirk, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt so tired. "Why did you pretend you didn't speak Common?"

"I don't knooooooow," he whined, into his knees.

Vriska clapped her hands and hollered, "Alright kids! Start chopping!"

Jake jerked his head up, horrified. "No! Wait! It was because- because your floating friend freaked me out!"

Vriska and Dirk shared A Look. Dirk wondered briefly if John scared the shit out of Jake, scared him so much that he didn't want to speak for two fucking weeks, but John was so... goofy. He was a god but he wasn't anything horrifying or eldritch.

Jake continued on before they could ask about it. He glared hard at his legs and rambled, "I was so frightened I'd run my mouth off and say something I didn't mean to blurt forth from my flapping trap. Mother always said I was an huge idiot, ha ha, and woweee I sure do see where she's coming from sometimes. I have a hard time keeping a tight lip on the rare occasion and your pirate friend hearing things he shouldn't have really would have put the topper on the cake! And besides that, it took me so fucking dang goddamn long to understand your accents so I wouldn't have talked much anyway and it was much easier to play pretend, so let's just let bygones be bygones and move on from this little mishap, okay?"

Vriska's upper lip, over the course of Jake's speech, curled higher and higher into the most judgmental scowl Dirk had ever seen. And Dirk had seen many a judgmental scowl from Vriska, so that was saying something. He knew where she was coming from: he had no idea what the fuck Jake was talking about, and Jake's use of language was... surreal. He stood up, so he could loom over Jake, and Vriska followed suit.

"Why did you curse our first mate?" asked Equius.

Jake tugged on the back of his shirt, playing with it to distract himself. "I just needed to off _one_ pirate, but..."

He took a deep, staggering breath. He clenched his fists against his bonds. He jumped to his feet. The effect of his summoned bravery was ruined by him immediately shouting, "Ow!" from the sharp rock on his bare soles. He readjusted his footing and fixed his pose into a power stance.

"But you all deserve what’s coming to you! I’m doing a great justice by giving all of you villains a what-for, and destroying your dastardly crew! At first I thought you were all fantastic, like golden-hearted swashbucklers right out of the storybooks! But that turned out to not be true at all! You're all... horrible people! You're sadistic and mean and cruel!"

Vriska grinned. Dirk raised an eyebrow. The crew started laughing at varying degrees of intensity. Jake was both wrong and right at the same time; apparently he was the type of person to see things in black and white. But Dirk was more than happy to play along with Jake’s perception of him.

"Yeah," said Dirk and Vriska at the same time. "We're pirates."

Whatever reaction Jake was expecting, it wasn’t that. His face collapsed into fear. He tried to back out of the circle, but Equius caught his shoulders and held him still.

Vriska chuckled, letting her hook glint in the sunlight. “And pirates don’t give a shit about people who’ve slighted us, English. You’ll rue the day you cursed poor Strider with ‘bad luck.’”

"No, no, that is incorrect. You're thinking about it all wrong," said a lovely, maidenly voice from the ocean.

They turned towards the source. A dark skinned, light haired woman floated in the water, her arms folded, resting on the volcanic outcrop. She appeared naked, although they could only see the top half of her. There was a moment of silence as the crew attempted to digest this.

"Where'd you come from?" asked Vriska, disgusted.

"Ummm, you know the water is sort of gross and choppy, right?" said Feferi, "It's dangerous to be swimming here!"

The woman ignored them, and examined her manicure. "Perceiving the misfortune this boy causes as 'bad luck' ignores the bigger picture. Instead, why not view it as obfuscation? He makes the path forward _unclear_ for the parties he chooses to apply his powers to. And makes the path forward clear for only himself. Guidance and misdirection, messing with the light of the stars that show the way... Now that reminds me of someone I know..."

The woman's dark stained lips split across her face, revealing many sets of teeth, laid inside each other like a shark. She pushed herself out of the water, and Dirk realized he was in the presence of the Sea King. He greeted her with a deep bow, absolutely fucking starstruck by the sight. His legs felt like gelatin. He didn’t think he’d ever have the chance to witness her. Feferi, Roxy, and Equius copied the gesture.

"Where is my sister!?" she bellowed, and her tentacles burst from the water. Slimy and slick, they slithered past Dirk and Vriska, around the crew, and went right for Jake. He yelped, terrified, and they wound around his body. They lifted him like a rag doll. She lurched from the water, her many appendages thick and black and carrying her across land like a wriggling ball of worms. Dirk did not move from his spot, and he noted the Sea King was careful to not hit them with her massive, writing tentacles. She used her arms to crawl across the rock, to close in on the group. She got a thick appendage beneath her to raise herself up to a human-like height.

She pulled Jake to her, hoisting him mid-air, so she could yell in his face. They weren’t far from the shore, but Dirk took a couple steps closer to the Sea King, so as not to get too far away from Jake. Jake looked so fucking scared, he was shaking, tears started to roll down his face. The Sea King spiraled the end of her tentacle around his throat, not choking, but real close to it. 

"Where is she!? Five hundred years I have gone without a sign from my Jade, and now this pathetic prince shows up, carrying her scent!? Why have I never seen you on my seas until now!? Why has John never felt you in his winds!?"

"I don't know!" Jake sobbed. "Stop it, I'm scared!"

"Why come out of hiding now!? Why wait all this time!?"

"I-I just want to go meet the Dead King," Jake cried out. "I want him to get rid of this- this curse! I don't want it!"

Huh. Is that what he was after? Jake must have been confused, the Dead King cannot be summoned with murder. You could only summon him through willful sacrifice of your own body and singing a specific chant.

In a flash, her anger vanished. Her mouth resumed its normal shape. She looked at him, thoughtfully, then something occurred to her. She threw her head back and laughed, all her teeth on display. "Is that it? Alright, child. I'll help you. Provide a little favor. Come with me, I'll take you to him."

Despite the Sea King phrasing it as a suggestion, Jake clearly had no choice in the matter. She dragged herself down the land, about to disappear into the sea with Jake in tow. Dirk wondered if she was going to drown him.

"Stop right there, missy!" Vriska called out. The Sea King froze, glaring at Vriska. "You're not going to take him! I mean, feel free to kill that fucking joke of a human if you want, but Dirk's got some bad luck-obfuscation-voodoo-whatever on him! If you take English away he's toast!"

"So?" said the Sea King. "You would defy the will of the god whose oceans you traverse?"

“Yeah bitch! Try me, I-” Dirk lunged for Vriska and clapped a hand over her mouth. 

"It's fine, we'll figure something out," hissed Dirk. Vriska tried to bite his palm but she couldn’t get a good grip on his skin. He then rephrased it for the Sea King, calling to her. "I'm sorry, my king, we are not defying your will."

The Sea King paused, staring at Dirk. Jake squirmed in her grip, but she squeezed him harder and he stopped.

"I like your tattoo," said the Sea King, eying up the black tentacles etched on Dirk's hand. "A little... gaudy, but I appreciate the shout out. I didn't know John's latest 'conquest' was a fan."

"Big fan, my liege," said Dirk, in awe. His throat felt dry, speaking to her. "The seas make life worth living."

The Sea King's lips curved into a genuine smile, although the expression disappeared in short order. She looked around at everyone, like she was embarrassed over showing emotion. She coughed politely into her fist.

"Well, come on, hop in a tentacle," said the Sea King, shifting so a large, black appendage slid over the land and flopped near Dirk and Vriska. "I suppose you'll be dragged along on this boy's quest, as an unfortunate victim."

Just him? Alone? He hadn’t been apart from his crew for… years. Sure, when they were on shore they often went off and had their own adventures, but they always checked in with each other at the end of the week or whatever. Journeying into the unknown just by his lonesome was a harrowing prospect. But, the Sea King told him to. And he didn’t want to doom his friends to eternal bad luck if she took Jake away. He’d rather fuckin’ die.

Dirk let go of Vriska in order to follow orders. There were a few meek “What? You’re taking Dirk?”s from the girls on the crew. Vriska lashed out and grabbed his wrist, digging her nails into his skin. He sighed, and spun to face her.

"No way Dirk! You can't go! Look at her, she's got like, eight billion teeth, you can't trust that many teeth, she'll totally drown you! C’mon, ‘take you to the Dead King,’ you can’t trust that!"

The Sea King posed with her hands pressed to her cheeks, and waggled her eyebrows. Dirk blinked at Vriska, surprised. He thought she’d be the least likely to object to him getting swiped by the Sea King. 

"Vriska, you try and kill me on average once every two months. What's the big deal this time?"

"Because! This is stupid!" she yelled, and glared at her feet. "I don't- I don't actually want to kill you with no chance of you making it out alive! Like, that's not fun! But I don’t know what this bitch is going to do to you! What if I actually never see you again!"

He was touched. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, c’mon, if I die, I’ll personally go petition the Dead King to send a plague your way so you can join my rotting corpse in hell.”

“Okay,” she said, sentimental. She let go of his wrist, but still didn’t look at him. "But just in case your plague fails to kill me, which it will… I want you to know that… you'll always be… my black diamond!"

"Vriska," he said, softly. "I have no idea what the fuck that means."

"I wouldn't have it any other way!" she sniffled.

They hugged it out. Vriska was a short little thing, so her face smashed directly into his moistened tiddies upon impact. She didn’t seem to care he was all wet from the wave splashing him.

"Bye guys," he sighed, letting go of Vriska. “See you around, hopefully.”

"Bye," called the crew. Most of them were choked up. A couple of them waved. Jake was still fucking crying. The Sea King seemed bored, and tapped her tentacle against the rock, impatient. Dirk stepped into the curl of it.

The Sea King twisted it around Dirk’s legs and torso. Dirk yelped at the force of it, the strength in which it gripped him. The Sea King pulled him off the rock and dunked him into the deep ocean water.


	8. Stolen Away

There was no time to take a breath. Bubbles burst from Dirk’s mouth as he instinctually screamed, dragged down into the depths. The pressure on his body increased, the light from the sky doused completely, and his heart pounded in his ears. The current flowed past his body, coursed through his clothes and hair like a galestorm. He had no oxygen. Vriska was right; the Sea King would drown him.

Panicked, his eyes shot open. There was nothing to look at, just the crushing pitch black of the dark seas. He was expecting his eyes to fog over with the pains of salt, but curiously, they did not sting. 

His heart calmed a bit. Cautiously, he inhaled through his nose. Air filled his system, and he took deep, deep breaths to recover himself. With his mental abilities fully in order, he realized that there was a thin barrier of air over his eyes and nose. He felt the water press hard on his lips, so he dared not open his mouth again.

Thank fuck the Sea King took mercy on him. He knew that tattoo was a good idea. He wondered if she was helping Jake too, or just letting him drown.

She propelled them through deep waters, and Dirk’s sense of time and direction were totally fucked by the pressure and absolute darkness. He thought it was only a couple minutes before the Sea King began to glow, but it could have been much longer for all he knew.

Something flickered, inside her head, and lit up like a lantern. It glowed behind her mouth, and shone through her skin all red, like she had a flame in her cheeks. It was bright enough to illuminate the surroundings. She was facing them and swimming backwards, her massive and many tentacles propelling them onward, to some mysterious destination. She held Jake right next to Dirk, and while Jake still looked piss-his-pants scared, he didn’t look like he was actively in the process of drowning.

The Sea King opened her mouth, reached her fingers inside, and plucked forth a shining yellow object. It was like the fucking sun, Dirk had to shut his eyes because it was too bright to look at directly. He managed to find an angle —glaring down at the black tentacle that wrapped around his chest— where he could sort-of watch what she was doing out of the corner of his eye. The object appeared to be the size of a marble, but he couldn’t tell if it had any other defining features. Jake was trying to squirm away, which like, why. Where the fuck would he go, they were underwater.

She began to sing. The sound carried forth pure and true under the ocean, and her voice was as clear and melodic as the finest tavern singers. It descended upon Dirk like a lullaby, and the adrenaline in his blood dimmed to nothing. She affected him like a bedtime siren. He didn’t know the Sea King had the power to placate, but it sort of made sense. The song of the sea was a powerful thing.

_to the tune of Lowlands_

[[actual soundcloud cover!](https://soundcloud.com/user-164451249-876778272/stolen-away-cover)]

~~[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Lj28TClO9XRGYPXIMXxCx)]~~ ~~[[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DlObhhN1kkk)]~~

* * *

I dreamed a dream the other night  
Stolen, stolen away, my Jade  
I dreamed she lost her true birthright  
King stolen away

I dreamed she hid the guiding stars  
Stolen, stolen away, my Jade  
I dreamed of her, with darkness marred  
King stolen away

Her hair dim as ash with face so cold  
Stolen, stolen away, my Jade  
Her eyes sparkled not, with soul controlled  
King stolen away

The first I’ve seen, her power since  
Stolen, stolen away, my Jade  
Oh, she hallowed you, black hearted prince  
King stolen away

You seep with her scent, with her power to hide  
Stolen, stolen away, my Jade  
You know where she is, now be my darkened guide  
King stolen away

| 

It was hard to focus, his head spinning with a sweet song. He wanted to shut his eyes and let the current massage him into oblivion. But he _had_ to stay awake, to see what she would do.

She apparently began singing to relax Jake, who had already given into the song’s urges and fallen right the fuck asleep. Seriously? Holy shit, was this guy just _that_ lacking in willpower? Dirk was so appalled it almost canceled out the effects of the siren song.

Dirk watched from the corner of his eye as the Sea King moved her body close to Jake’s. She tilted his chin back, and his mouth fell open. She peered down his gullet with amusement. 

She took the light and placed it between his lips. It fell, like a star, into his throat. Once it hit his chest, it burst beneath his skin like fairy dust, and the glow vanished. Before Dirk was plunged into utter blackness once more, the Sea King flashed him a multi-layered grin, between stanzas. He didn’t know what she was smiling about, but he tried to smile back in the dark.

He felt the current shift, and the pressure rapidly decrease as the Sea King brought them upwards. She finished her song just before breaching the waves, the light from the sun stinging Dirk’s eyes.   
  
---|---  
  
It felt like someone shaking him awake at the crack of dawn. It took him a minute for his vision to adjust, the sleep wearing off as the Sea King carried them above water with her tentacles. Dirk felt sand beneath him as the Sea King set him down on his ass.

His sight transitioned back into daytime mode. She placed them on a sandbar, barely large enough for both Jake and Dirk. It was the size of a coffin. There was no sign of the Velvet Court, nothing on the horizon in any direction, they were in the middle of nowhere. The Sea King said she would take Jake to the Dead King, and from all appearances, she intended on starving them to death out here.

The tentacle around Dirk unfurled, and slithered back into the ocean. The one around Jake soon followed. Jake was still fast asleep, on his stomach, face smashed against the sand. The sandbar was too narrow for him, so his legs were still floating in the water. The Sea King untied his bonds with the tip of her tentacle, and his arms flopped dead against the sand. Pink marks lingered on his white wrists from the tightness of the ropes.

Dirk was drenched, heavy with the weight of soaked clothing. He slicked his hair out of his eyes. He stretched out his back, shaking away the last remnants of tiredness. He sat on the sandbar with his knees up, and the Sea King slid up the shore to get near him. He froze, nervous as hell, when she placed her hands on his knees and rested her chin on them. The god with a million sharpened teeth who could drown him with a snap of her fingers was propping her head up on his legs. She looked sly; she could probably read his fear like a book.

"I suppose you're thinking 'Oh no, this beautiful deity whom I worship and adore has taken me to a desolate spot where I will die of exposure with my only company being a foolish boy covered in drainage holes.'" She reached out and brushed a stray, wet group of hairs from Dirk’s eyes, like a caring mother. "You're right."

Dirk didn't know what to say. He was scared, but she had this weird deadpan tone similar to the voice he often used while telling jokes. The dissonance stopped him from descending into pure panic.

"At least on the surface level, anyway. I cannot take you to my brother's realm, nor would I care to," she continued. A tentacle lurched from the sea and pointed at Jake. "I have brought you here to complete a favor for me: I would like you to help this child along on his journey. I would like to see what he does, where he goes, why he reeks of my sister. I put something of… a tracker in him, you see. I want to gather information."

'Help him along on his journey' apparently meant going to the Isle of the Dead, which meant fucking dying. Dirk had a million in a half things to do, and did not want to die, thanks. Since Dirk didn't have it together enough to contribute to the conversation, the Sea King kept monologuing.

"I know nothing about him, besides what I have heard from eavesdropping on you pirates. I feel his sister sail my seas, but I have never heard her language and cannot understand what her plans are, if she has even discussed them while I am paying attention to her." She pressed her hand to her chin, glancing up all thoughtful. "It is very odd. The language has never been spoken on my waters, and as far as I'm aware my reach expands to every sea on the planet, thanks to the proclivity of pirating in the last century."

John said something similar, albeit in his dumbass flighty way. The Sea King continued her musings.

"So I want to see where he goes, where his home is, and perhaps provide a lead to my long lost sister. And I think it will be quite entertaining to see what Dave will do when presented with Jake's 'curse.'"

Two tentacles lifted from the water and curled in behind her, imitating an air-quote gesture on the word 'curse.' Presumably that meant it wasn't really a curse. Jane apparently said something like that too. Dirk wondered for the tenth billion time what the fuck was up with Jake.

"Besides, I'm a sucker for survival narratives," said the Sea King, her mouth splitting to reveal a horrifying grin. Her eyes lit with stars as she burst into a fantasy. "Oh, think of the drama. What will two desperate men do on a desolate sandbar, with no possibility of rescue?"

Dirk thought about this. "Fuck, probably."

She raised an eyebrow. "That would be one droll erotica. You can only engage in coitus for so long before you run out of fluids."

"You severely underestimate my ability to fuck myself to death, ma’m," said Dirk, unable to resist a dry joke. She seemed to enjoy it. "In all honesty my king, I will probably call for John to save us, at least for him to direct the _Black Diamond_ to our location."

"I would prefer you not. I want to see what Jake will do when forced to act."

She had a point. How would Jake try to get to the Isle of the Dead when he cannot die? Dirk was a bit curious as well.

She removed herself from Dirk's knees, then reached around and took a hold of his right hand. Her hands seemed small and dainty and fragile within his, hers were meant for sipping tea and wearing lace gloves. She gave his palm a comforting squeeze.

“Do not fret, Dirk. I will be watching,” she said. “And I have an _inkling_ you'll be alright.”

That was incredibly fucking lame, and also inaccurate— she was less squid and more octopus. His nervousness stilled. He plucked her hand up and pressed a respectful kiss to her knuckles. She smiled, close lipped, with a fond look in her eyes. "Nice pun," he told her.

She winked, obnoxiously. Her hand slipped from his, she slid away from him like the receding tide, and disappeared beneath the water without leaving ripples. The seas were quiet, the waves lapped gently against the sand. He missed her already.

Without the distraction of conversation, Dirk's skin felt disgusting. The saltwater stuck to his body like old drenched gauze, so he undressed himself to dry off. As he removed each article, he laid them out flat at the peak of the sandbar. Just as he took off his kimono to finally expose his pickled flesh to the sun, Jake stirred.

He made an adorable little wakeup noise, a "mmnph," before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His glasses fell off at some point; they were dangling around his neck. Dirk got all his kimono spread out on the sand before squatting to Jake's level.

"Is this the Isle of the Dead?" asked Jake, squinting hard at the horizon. He tried to clean his sandy glasses off on his dripping wet shirt, but it didn't work very well.

"Nope," said Dirk. "You have to figure out how to get there yourself."

Jake jerked his head towards Dirk. His bright green eyes welled with tears, his lip trembled. He was so fucking cute, holy shit. After pouting at Dirk for an appropriate moment of time, he crumpled up into a ball, hugged his knees, and cried into his drenched skirts. 

"I want to go home!" he sobbed, shoulders shaking. "I shouldn't have run away! This is the worst adventure ever!"

Dirk was taken aback by the dramatics. He didn't know what to do, if this was a trick or if he should try and comfort Jake or what. So he stayed silent and squatting.

Jake continued sobbing into his knees. “Two weeks on your dumb stupid ship passed with no exciting events and nothing to look at or do! It got so friggin' dull! I couldn't even engage in the rumpy pumpy with any of you! My poor feet hurt from shuffling back and forth on your horrible deck! I'm soaked and I don't have a change of dress! I'm starving! I haven't eaten in forever, I thought you'd sit down and take a nice breakfast but no! You can't even grant me a piece of toast! And now I'm stuck with some horrible pirate in the middle of the forsaken fucking ocean and I don't want to be here!”

Sans getting transported to an abandoned sandbar by the Sea King, Dirk thought this was a pretty normal routine. In fact, it was better than normal, sometimes they hadn't eaten shit but hardtack and disgusting beer for over two months, and more often than not there were quite a bit of repairs and frantic work to do on the ship. The last two weeks were pretty luxe in the grand scheme of things.

"I'm a horrible pirate?" Dirk asked, picking out the most important detail from Jake's speech.

"Yes!" Jake shouted. He flung himself to the side so he could glare at Dirk. Water from his clothing sprayed everywhere. He wiped his tears away with one hand while hollering at Dirk. "While your entire crew is a cornucopia of trickster rapscallions who are destined to wind up in hell, you sir, are especially evil! You're terrifying, frankly! I'm lucky I've perhaps got a deep subconscious interest in handsome bad boys because otherwise I would have been too scared to keep my Johnson at full mast!"

"What?" Dirk stammered, completely floored. He was jazzed somebody actually fell for his charade. Nobody ever did, at least not when they heard him speak. He said, delighted, "You think I'm a bad, _bad_ boy?"

"Yes! Perhaps there were flashes of goodness or kindness within you, but I am certain they were tricks or mind games! In fact, your humor only serves to further your devilish charm! You’re like a textbook villain! You have like, six knives on you at all times! There’s also the pirate thing, your cruel captain, how you never smile and always sound like you're on the edge of snapping, and your tattoos are so scary! Those pictures of monsters and skulls and a courtesan who's probably horrifyingly indebted to you somehow are the _worst!”_

Dirk was absolutely elated. These were the best complements he'd ever received. Although they were slightly inaccurate.

"Vriska and Terezi drew the girl for me," Dirk said, shrugging his shoulder. "It's not a courtesan, it's just a face. 16 year old me thought it looked cool. I named her Rambo."

Jake blinked, his anger dissipating completely. "Oh, like, the book? I love that book."

"So you read books in the popular consciousness, huh?" said Dirk, leaning towards Jake on his toes. "Where are you from, Jake?"

"Um," said Jake, leaning backwards. He glanced around, like trying to find someone to help him. "Es pento se letrifitronan?"

"You can't fuckin’ retcon the fact I know you speak Common, dude."

"Let's put my origins away for now and focus on what's important! I need to get off this island!" Jake blurted. "I suppose my only path forward is clear! I must destroy you!"

Dirk stared at Jake's delicate arms, his soft body, how he trembled with fright like a baby deer. Dirk was fully fucking naked and unarmed and did not feel threatened by this utter pansy. "Yeah okay. Hey, you know that, like, murdering a pirate doesn't get you to the Isle of the Dead, right? You can only get there by dying, and that's a one-way trip."

"Oh! No, I have this magic guidance compass power thingamajig, didn't you see it?" said Jake. "It guides me when I've got an idea of where I'm going! So I deigned I'd use it to go see the piratical Dead King and get these blasted powers removed! Makes sense, right? Got to kill a piratey curse, got to go see the piratey Dead King..."

Dirk wasn't sure he followed that train of thought. 'Got to go see the Dead King to remove a curse' seemed like a solution to a fucking moon logic puzzle. But he'd gleaned enough information from "piratey curse," "magic guidance compass," and the things the Sea and Wind Kings said that he figured Jake possessed some fraction of the presumed-dead Star King's abilities. Even though Jake wasn't a pirate. And even though 'fuck someone into bad luck hell' didn't seem to be part of the Star King's wheelhouse. But sure, Dirk would take the bait. He'd see what the Dead King had to say about Jake 'smelling like Jade.'

Jake continued on. "Unfortunately I have _no_ idea where I'm going so I can't get there by my lonesome, but _your_ soul certainly knows where the Isle of the Dead is... once you've cacked. I figured I'd wait around for a pirate to die, activate my compass, and then tag along for the ride!"

"Explains why you tried to kill me with no escape route," said Dirk. That, combined with Jake's perceptions and sense of justice, also explained why Jake attempted to murder Dirk in particular, as opposed to Nepeta or Karkat or someone who did not project evil badass vibes. Probably the only one who rivaled Dirk in sheer evil appearance was Vriska, but she wasn't interested in fooling around with Jake. Seduction was the only card up Jake's sleeve, and Dirk fell for it hook line and sinker.

"I've got a better idea," said Dirk. "Instead of killing me, why not summon the Dead King here? I'll even sing the dumb chant for you. There's no reason to go to the afterlife."

Jake chewed on his lip. "I don't want to cut off my arm..."

"It'd grow back for you, right? Who cares?"

"I do," whined Jake. "It hurrrrrtttssss..."

"Let's see what I've got in my bag of tricks to help you," said Dirk, totally ignoring Jake, and totally ignoring the fact that Jake would apparently rather kill some random pirate than suffer a momentary amputation. Dirk supposed he'd just hand a knife to Jake and force him to chop off a foot. 

Dirk twisted around and lifted his still-drenched kimono. He turned it upside down and started shaking out the sleeves onto the sands. A whole pile of shit tumbled out. Six knives, his toothbrush, extra rope, a folded origami kitten Nepeta made for him that was now totally ruined, a little horse charm he found on the _Midnight Runner_ that he wanted to give to Equius for his upcoming birthday, a prank ring John got for him that left a black stain on his fingers, one of Vriska's eyepatches he was planning on sewing a spiderweb into for her, and that unknown red poison he swiped from her cabin.

"Huh, shit, I almost forgot about this," said Dirk, picking up the poison. He held it up to the sun. The skull charms jangled against the glass tube, the light shone through the transparent red liquid. “Still don’t know what it does.”

Jake pointed at it, and said calmly, "Oh, that's Plafortuciatio. On the rare occasion, people smuggle it out of my kingdom to sell. It painlessly and instantly turns your entire body to glowing ashes beginning with the tip of your little pinky finger."

Dirk shot a glare at Jake. "Out of the plethora of stupid lies I have heard come out of your goddamn mouth, that _has_ to be the stupidest one."

"No! It's true!"

This was what pushed Dirk over the line. The whining, the attempted murder, the cagey dodging of questions… he could handle all that. What he couldn’t handle was Jake pretending he knew more about poisons than Dirk.

"That's not how science works, you idiot. What kind of bullshit magic potion would turn you to ash? I have drank _every poison in existence_ and 'getting ashified' correlates with no herb, chemical, or acid in the real world. And if it did do that, then why wouldn’t I have heard of it? If you're going to lie, at least go with something that could _actually_ happen."

"No, it's real! I know this for sure! I- ummmmmmmmmm- read a lot!"

"Your conviction really sells it. I 100% believe you," said Dirk, not believing him at all. He narrowed his eyes at the ‘poison.’ He uncorked the raven stopper and smelled it. Vriska was right, it had no scent at all.

Jake leaned forward, pouty and desperate. “I swear on my life that decadent red tube will kill you! I don’t know why you’re tempting fate here!”

“See, here’s the thing,” said Dirk, swirling the tube and watching the rivulets of red trail down the glass like wine. “If you wanted me to die, why would you be warning me about a poison? It stands to reason that you actually _don’t_ want me to take this so-called ‘poison’ and are using your clever lies to manipulate me. Perhaps it’s not a poison at all. Perhaps it’s some kind of strength serum, or something that would send me into a murderous rage, or a delicious alcohol in a gothic bottle that you want for yourself.”

“Uh, okay,” said Jake, unsure.

“So due to your behavior, I can assume it would be to my benefit and your detriment if I were to sample this. And I’m real keen on your detriment at the moment, after all the shit you’ve pulled.”

Dirk tossed his head back and gulped down a mouthful of the red liquid. It tasted like raspberries, had none of the tangy burn of the poisons Dirk was used to. Honestly, it was probably a cooler. Bummer, he kind of wanted to be thrown into a murderous rage.

Jake’s mouth dropped open. Completely shocked, he drew his arms in a wide arc, and the ring of the guidance compass flickered into existence. He made quick, sharp gestures, and the interior of the compass rose filled in. Dirk scoffed.

“Come on, seriously? Drop it,” said Dirk. “Nothing’s fucking happening. Even if it was a poison I’m probably immune to it anyway.”

Jake gestured with his chin as he finished the drawing, pointing towards Dirk’s right arm. Dirk rolled his eyes, but glanced down at himself nonetheless. Half his arm was gone.

Dirk’s heart seized with fear. He dropped the rest of the poison, and it rolled down the shore into the ocean. Like sand dropping through an hourglass, Dirk’s arm dissolved into a pile of glowing ash. It flowed onto the sandbar, then onto his thigh. It was utterly painless and noiseless, hell, it still felt like his arm was there. Dirk clutched at his shoulder in a desperate attempt to stop it, but the poison consumed Rambo, and Dirk was left with only a handful of black dust. It pulsed with a faint red light.

Oh, Kings, Dirk was going to fucking die. He was going to die alone on this island and his friends would never find his body and never know what happened to him. This was it, this was the end of the fucking road, and it was entirely due to his own stupidity. 

At least he didn’t have to wait around long for it. The ash ate his side, his right lung, the edge of his neck, the line of his jaw. The compass spun, around and around, the needle trying to align itself with something that certainly wasn’t north. 

His vision went out with a flash, Jake and the sea sounded like far away echos. His heart stilled, with nothing much left to guide it.

“Isle of the Dead,” announced Jake, with two voices. One sounded like a woman. “I give you this death, take me to where-”

Dirk died. 

It felt a little bit like falling asleep.

********

He dreamt of floating in the water with Jake.

Some far off part of him was aware that he died, but most of his subconsciousness focused itself in the fantasy. He floated on his back, surrounded by the calm nighttime seas. Jake drifted next to him, asleep. The moon shimmered down and coated Jake’s body with a silver glaze. The far off part of Dirk told him to push Jake’s head under the water in petty vengeance, but his dream self felt too quieted to do so. 

Dirk stared at Jake’s silhouette for a while, perfect and still in the bright silver night. He felt so calm, almost meditative. The scene was so real, so tangible, he could feel the warm ocean water lapping over his bare skin. He turned his head away from Jake, and stared up at the impossibly big full moon. It was the size of a goddamn island, consuming half of Dirk’s view.

There were no stars in the sky. Just a void.

He heard a ripple behind him, like someone threw a rock in the water. He transitioned into treading water, and drifted towards the source of the noise. A woman popped the top half of her head above the surface, her hair silky smooth in the inky black ocean. Moonlight reflected against the rims of her round glasses.

She blinked at him, with Jake’s eyes. Dirk blinked back. She swam higher, to expose her bare shoulders and a big grin with gapped teeth. Her long hair floated against the top of the sea like an oil spill.

“Hi!” said the woman. Her voice, although loud, was melodious enough that it did not disturb the scene. It blended with the ocean noise like a song. “My name’s Jade!”

“Your majesty,” said Dirk, bowing as best he could while treading water. He was unsure if this Star King was a construct of his dying mind or not.

“Nice to finally meet you for real instead of through some third party! So I’m here to be your mystical spirit guide and stuff,” chirped Jade. She lifted her arm from the water, and pointed at Jake’s body. “Dirk, I decree that: you must rescue the prince from his tower!” 

Dirk twisted his head towards Jake. Still perfect, still floating all quiet and dead-like. 

“Why?” Dirk asked. “What tower?”

Jade blew a raspberry. “A metaphorical tower, duh! And do you really need a reason to rescue a handsome prince with sexy sex powers from a firey dragon who held him captive all his life?”

Dirk raised an eyebrow. “When that prince kills and backstabs me, yeah, I kind of do.”

Jade rolled her eyes. “Okay, jeez, fine. How about this? By saving him, you also save me.”

Dirk tilted his head. That would be an acceptable reason, if this were real. To save a King would put him in the pirate history books for centuries. He’d have to ask the Dead King if this vision looked anything like his sister. 

“But you must be careful,” said Jade, her smile fading. “He doesn’t want to be rescued. In fact, I’m sure he’ll do _anything_ to sabotage you.”

Dirk frowned. Jade raised her hands above the water. She winked at Dirk, then slapped him across the face so hard it warped him out of the space time continuum.

He stirred from his dream.

Not enough to fully wake up, just enough to recognize he had a body, his eyes were closed, and that _holy shit_ he was tired. What was supposed to happen when a pirate died, again? Dirk knew, but he couldn’t remember. He was so fuckin’ sleepy. His brain didn’t seem to work.

He felt thick down blankets pulled up to his waist. He felt cushy, soft pillows support his head. His bed rocked gently, like his hammock at sea. He wore pajamas of soft cotton, although he was too tired to examine them.

His top half was a little cold, the air was chill on his cheeks. His lower body was so cozy and warm. He wanted to burrow into the blankets even further, make a sleep nest and slip into comfort heaven. It felt like a lazy Sunday morning on a winter shore.

But, wait, he couldn't fall back asleep. He had to get up. He had shit to do. He had a lot of shit to do. He had to, at the very least, wake up so he could punch Jake English in the face.

It was a monumental effort to open his eyes. The world was gray and cloudy, like it was about to snow. His vision doubled and unfocused from his fatigue. Jake was huddled at Dirk's feet, at the stern of the small charnel boat. Jake wore the same clothes as he did in life, still drenched with seawater, and he shivered so violently Dirk could perceive it through the cloud of half-sleep. Fog steamed from his breath in the chill air.

Jake noticed Dirk woke up. With a shaking, stuttering voice that barely resounded over the quiet waters, he whispered, "We're here."


	9. The Isle Of The Dead (Instrumental)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _mood music for this chapter: The Isle of the Dead, Op. 29_  
>  [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/2BU2xoi7FAKQXJhMCJhluY)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbbtmskCRUY)]

Okay, great.

Dirk’s eyes fluttered shut, and he sunk deep into the ineffably cushioned pillows. If these weren’t the best fucking pillows he’d ever put his head on then he’d eat his hat(s). His hands felt like thousand pound weights when he lifted them to tug the softest and warmest down comforters and quilts and afghans in existence over his chest. He snuggled into the mattress, ready to slip into the best sleep he’d ever had.

A small part of his mind kept nagging at him, that he had to stay awake for some reason. It poked and prodded at him until he was forced to give it some thought, and he remembered what, exactly, happened to pirates when they died.

Dirk grit his teeth. He forced his arms to move, forced himself to sit up in his death bed. He thought it'd help him wake up more, but nope. All he wanted to do was fall back against the pillows and conk out. No matter how he moved, he still felt like he hadn't slept in over 24 hours and needed to lie the fuck down right now.

He opened his eyes. Jake still shivered in front of him. Dirk couldn’t see shit, his vision was so foggy, like he’d been woken mid-dream. They sailed past the stone water gate and sea wall, into the channel that lead to the great unknown. He could hear people talking on shore, but could not for the life of him pick out what they were saying.

"Jake," groaned Dirk, trying desperately to stay awake. "We have to get off the boat, or we're going to fucking, double die, or what the fuck ever."

“… What?” whispered Jake, who seemed scared.

Dirk did not want to put in the effort to explain. But he _had_ to. He couldn’t let down the Star King or the Sea King. And he wanted to see his friends again, even if he had to wait on the Isle for fifty years. He blinked, rapidly, a couple times, but it didn’t help him wake up any further.

“This place is like- like a waiting room,” he said, forcing the words out. “The Dead King is here, you can wait for your friends, there’s a ping pong table, and so forth. But you can also, fucking, sail past all this, if you’ve said all your goodbyes and just want to get some goddamn sleep.”

Dirk gripped the wood edge of the boat, and forced his spine to twist so he could look towards the destination. He squinted hard enough to make his eyes focus on the giant sepulchral portal looming at the end of the channel. The entrance carved from the cliffs was shrouded in shadow, and Dirk could not see where the pitch black interior led. The straight channel was long, and they sailed slow, so there was no panic in Dirk’s heart yet. Which was probably not a good thing, since a little adrenaline might wake him up. 

The narrow channel was lined with short, one foot high walls, easy enough to climb up. He saw a fellow dead pirate snoozing over the top of one. They barely made it to safety, their bare feet were still in the cold water.

Dirk’s head lolled forward with sleep, and he jerked himself awake with the force of it. He ran a hand down his face, hard, and tried to think of what to do. He could always throw himself off the boat, but gods, he wanted to stay in bed more than anything. 

The walls of the channel were artfully decrepit, and there were thin branching brooks that wound deeper through the forest of cypress trees where the rock crumbled away. Dirk couldn’t see where they led, but they weren’t going to the big scary death door at he end of the channel. He figured they were an alternate escape route.

“Jake, get out of the boat and push it down one of those rivers. They lead somewhere safe.”

“W-why wouldn’t I just let you sail on, and drag myself onto shore by my lonesome?”

Dirk twisted back around. He was so tired he couldn’t even be mad. He said, without thinking, and with entirely too much honesty, “Because I’m warm, and you’re not, and I’m in the mood for cuddles.”

At least he thought he was warm, anyway. He could have been cold as a corpse. But that seemed to affect Jake, who inhaled sharply. He bit his lip, and leaned over the side of the charnel boat, peering at the water. “But the water’s freezing… And I can’t swim…”

“You’re soaked anyway, can’t get any worse,” said Dirk. His voice was more soothing and kind than he intended it to be. “You can do it Jake, just hold onto the edge and kick your legs if the water’s deep. Just think of getting under these soft, warm blankets… God damn, Jake, they’re so fucking cozy…”

Jake took a deep breath. He inched to the edge of the stern, and stuck his slender legs out to test the water. The boat dipped precariously to port from the weight imbalance. Jake’s ass slid down the wood, and he shrieked like a kitten who got her tail stepped on. With a loud splash, Jake fell into the channel. The waves from his accidental cannonball engulfed the wood at the stern, but didn’t drip onto Dirk’s blankets.

Dirk felt like his heart _should_ have been hammering at this turn of events, but he was too damn tired. He slapped his cheeks to try and get himself to care about this clumsy fuck possibly drowning himself on the Isle of the Dead. If only because this meant he had to leave his warm bed to get to shore.

After nothing but the sound of sloshing waves, Jake burst from the surface, gasping. He stood up, the water at waist level, and slicked his hair back with hands that shook like an earthquake. He was breathing too loud and too fast, the sort of scream-wheezes Dirk recognized as the beginnings of hypothermic shock and hyperventilation. It had been quite some time since Dirk was on arctic seas, but he remembered how difficult breathing became when doused in freezing water. Not fun.

“Otontiva, cold, cold, fuck,” Jake rasped, the words barely making it out through his heaving gasps. He tripped forward to try and catch the boat, almost bellyflopping into the canal again, but managed to get his trembling fingers around the woodwork. His hands were ghost white from the cold. Dirk almost felt bad for the guy. Almost.

“Soft, warm blankets,” Dirk repeated, lazily. Jake wheezed, grit his teeth, and started wading. He pushed on the boat, rotating it and guiding it down a narrow stream that went west into the forest. Unable to hold himself up any longer after the immediate threat was taken care of, Dirk fell into the swaths of fresh down pillows. His eyes closed and opened like shutters in a galestorm. He watched foggy dark trees sail by beneath a gray sky. He listened to Jake swallow air, curse, and slosh through the otherwise calm water.

It was only a couple minutes before Dirk passed beneath a white arch, and shadow doused the boat. Dirk rolled his head against the pillow to try and discern where they were. It was a small, dark room with a pool, the endpoint of the stream. A flooded tomb. Empty grave niches lined the rocky white walls to the ceiling, narrow oblong holes just long enough to fit a sleeping body. The crypts were decrepit, with white poles supporting the niches in danger of collapsing.

Well, wherever they were, it certainly wasn’t the final portal to the afterlife. Dirk figured he was safe, and could finally get some fucking shuteye. He heard Jake slosh-trip to the bow.

“Th-there’s nothing to tie the boat to!” blurted Jake. His voice resonated in the rounded tomb, amplified it by about one hundred fucking decibels.

“Huwah?” Dirk said, already half asleep. He pressed a hand over his eyes, trying to concentrate. His voice came out slurred and lazy. “Just anchor it to one of the crypt post things, dude.”

Jake’s tone of voice was on the opposite end of the spectrum from Dirk’s: Jake was so panicked, afraid, and out of sorts that even Dirk could read his emotions like a book. “I don’t know how!”

The proper knot for poles was second nature to Dirk, and he listed off the steps without thinking over if there was an easier way for Jake to do it. “Wrap the end of the line around the post. Then wrap it around a second time, crossing over the standing line. Then wrap it a third time, but don't overlap the standing line, and then put the end of the rope beneath the last wrap and pull it as tight as you can."

Dirk couldn't see Jake, but he sensed Jake gave him a blank look. “What?” Jake sputtered, between rapid breaths.

Dirk repeated the instructions. He heard Jake fumble through the water, trying to get the boat line tied. Minutes passed. Jake hyperventilated. Dirk’s vision faded in the dark room, his eyes fluttered shut and did not re-open. His head rolled against the pillows.

“I can’t do it,” Jake whined. Dirk thought he might be crying. “I’m such a failure, I can’t do anything I-”

What the fuck was with the broad self-generalizations over tying a dumb knot? That was Dirk’s wheelhouse, and no one else’s, thanks. Honestly. This shit didn’t matter. Dirk just wanted some sleep.

"It's okay Jake," Dirk murmured. "It's okay, don’t worry about it. The current ends here, the boat’s not going anywhere."

“Are you sure, I-”

“Yeah, you did good. I’m tired. Get undressed, dry off with a blanket, come to bed.”

Dirk heard the slop of Jake’s clothes against the floor of a grave niche. He counted the number of garments thrown; five. He heard Jake’s teeth chattering.

Dirk’s eyes jerked open when the boat lurched, but it didn’t capsize. Jake hefted himself onto the stern, and grabbed a knit blanket from the top of Dirk’s pile. Dirk watched him dry off as the water calmed. Jake’s skin was pale as a blizzard. He shook so hard the boat trembled. His breath came out in huge, puffy clouds. His dick was retracted so far into his goddamn pelvis that Dirk probably would have won in a measuring contest.

He threw the wet blanket into the pool when finished, and then slid over the top of the charnel boat to lay with Dirk. Jake pulled back the massive menagerie of plush coziness that covered Dirk, and Dirk finally felt the horrible chill of the Isle brush against his skin. Dirk felt like a dead fish as Jake rolled him over and hugged him tight, spooning him. Jake pulled all the covers over the top of them, up to their chins, and the world was suddenly comfy and wonderful again.

Jake felt like a literal block of ice against Dirk’s back. Jake shivered and panted against Dirk’s neck. But Dirk could not give two shits. The bed was so soft, and the pillows were so perfect, and Jake’s arms around his waist were so pleasant. He loved having company when in bed. He was so tired.

He fell into the deepest sleep his soul ever experienced.

*******

Dirk roused some time later. It was the kind of pleasant, slow wakeup that he associated with a full night's sleep and awakening in tandem with the rising sun. A rare experience, especially for a sailor.

He kept his eyes shut, letting his body kindle itself on its own time. He felt weightless in the gentle, rocking boat. He was rested and lazy, and looked forward to spending a long time waking up in this comfortable bed. He had nowhere to be.

He became aware of Jake's arms still wrapped around him. Jake was quite warm, and as comfortable as the mattress Dirk laid on. Jake wasn't hyperventilating any more, just breathing soft against Dirk's skin. Dirk pushed back a little, to tighten the seal on the spoon, and Jake's erection pressed against Dirk's ass.

Morning wood, maybe? He didn't know if Jake was asleep too. But if he wasn't, well, it sure was nice thinking about him making use of said erection. He wondered if Jake would fuck him while they woke up together. Or if Jake was too chafed from the fuckfest last night, maybe he'd go down on Dirk. Hell, Dirk would even be hyped for some juvenile fondling, maybe finally getting a chance to kiss Jake while cozy and half-asleep. The parade of dream-like fantasies that wandered through Dirk's mind were real fuckin’ choice; Dirk couldn't pick the best one.

"Are you up?" asked Jake, who sounded very much awake. He kept his voice low, but it still echoed a little in the tomb.

"Mmm," said Dirk, snuggling deeper into the pillows. He didn't open his eyes. It felt nice, to talk all slow, without his brain tripping over itself to ruin whatever he was saying. "What's the boner for?"

"Well unlike you, Mr. Sleepyhead, I am very much not tired! And in my daydreaming I am prone to untoward thoughts..." he said. His grip on Dirk slipped just an inch lower. "And I am especially aroused by... er... still, pliant bodies."

"You into corpses?" asked Dirk, completely unperturbed. He'd seen worse things. "You and Aradia would get along great."

Jake winced, grossed out. "Heavens no! I simply enjoy not having to worry about my partner's pleasure... Usually I spend so much time focusing on them that I cannot get lost in my own passions!"

Dirk thought that was rather selfish, but didn't say anything. It sounded hot. To see what Jake could do without concern.

"Well, if you want to go hogwild on me right now," said Dirk. "I wont complain."

Jake's breath hitched, and he shifted, rolled Dirk onto his back. Jake slid over Dirk's front, and laid his full weight on him. Jake was much lighter than Dirk, so this wasn't a problem. It was nice, even, like having another blanket on top of him.

Beneath the covers, Dirk willed himself to move, and grabbed two handfuls of Jake's plush ass. Fuck yes. Almost softer than the pillows he was on. He heard Jake chuckle.

Dirk finally opened his eyes. His vision was a little doubled, but he was awake enough to tell what was going on. Jake’s glasses were dangling at his neck, he had one arm propped against the mattress and the other between them, working at Dirk’s obi. He undid the bow faster than Dirk could have done it. He was smiling to himself, like he was keeping a funny secret.

“You’re positively certain you want to have a good scrumpy with me?” asked Jake. He didn’t say it, but Dirk assumed he was asking about gettin’ down when Dirk was theoretically pissed at him. Without waiting for Dirk’s answer, Jake opened Dirk’s kimono, exposing him fully.

"Look, I'm too tired and too blissfully horny to care right now, but I _will_ strangle you once my mental machine is fully operational," said Dirk. He gave Jake’s ass a light slap under the covers, then let his arms go limp. They sank into the feather mattress. "What about you, Jake? Why are you fucking the most evil and bloodthirsty pirate that sails the seas? And that's definitely absolutely me, by the by, in case you forgot."

"I, uh," said Jake, tracing the outline of the wave on Dirk's chest. "I like sinful bad boys... But mostly this entire situation reminds me of a part in the three volume political drama epic by S. Morgenstern, where the charming black-clad pirate is brought back to life but unable to move, and the beautiful princess trapped in the castle and about to commit suicide finds him on her bed... I always thought it would have been quite romantic if they skipped the dramatic confrontation with the beast keeping her captive and made passionate love instead."

Dirk liked those books. Also, hella fuckin’ flattering to be compared to the Dread Pirate Roberts. "Are you the beautiful princess?"

"I suppose," said Jake, but sounded unconvinced. "Would you spread your legs for me, dear?"

"As you wish."

Dirk intended it to be a joke that referenced what the Dread Pirate Roberts always said to the princess, but Jake didn't have the expected reaction. He gasped, pressed his hand to his lips, and flushed from head to toe. Dirk hadn't seen too much color in Jake's skin before, so it was a shock to see him so beet red that Dirk could perceive it in a dim room. Jake's pupils expanded, nearly taking up his entire iris, and he stared down at Dirk like he was about to start crying.

"... You okay?" Dirk asked, confused.

Jake jerked his head away. The flush faded into his pale skin. "Yes! Certainly! Nothing wrong here, haha! Spread 'em, sir."

Dirk spread 'em. He tried to hike his knees up to make missionary easier for Jake, but gods, it was so much fuckin’ effort and he just could _not_ care about ease of entry. He laid there, quiet and still, as Jake positioned himself.

With the talk about 'not worrying about my partner's pleasure,' Dirk expected Jake to slam inside him with no foreplay. But instead, Jake pressed his dick to Dirk's, so the piercing rutted against the sensitive spots. Jake slid his tip against Dirk in slow, slick circles. The rub of the metal made Dirk warm up real fast and real quick, and he let his eyes fall shut and his mouth part in sleepy ecstasy.

The buildup was spectacular. Dirk liked the sound of Jake's cock grinding against the growing slick. A dreamy, tired tension grew in Dirk's thighs. Like he was about to wake up from a really good wet dream.

He felt Jake's cock pulse, and Jake shivered. Dirk slit open one eye and watched Jake throw his head back, bite his lip, and hum out a soft, "Mmm."

Jake continued thrusting through his orgasm. Hot, wet come spattered over Dirk's pelvis, and Jake's continued rutting smeared it down his dick and entrance. It felt fucking good, but holy shit, how long had it been? Thirty seconds, maybe?

Jake stopped moving, and stretched his shoulder blades, smiling to himself like he just ate a delicious meal. Dirk raised an eyebrow. "That it?"

"Hold your horses, this is all part of the usual itinerary," he said, chipper. Apparently he wasn't particularly effected by the come down from an orgasm. "I last much much longer if I don't try to resist my admittedly immature levels of excitement! Let me dip down for a bit --I don't want to ruin your pretty white outfit-- and then I'll take my sweet time."

Jake slid beneath the covers completely, and his fingers trailed gently down Dirk's thighs. Dirk shuddered when Jake's tongue glided up Dirk's labia, moaned when Jake drew circles around Dirk's dick. He lapped up all the mess with those amazing tongue piercings. Dirk had never been with a man so into eating his own come, and by gods, it was disgustingly hot.

When Dirk was clean, Jake slid back up to resume the position. He wiped his perfect lips with his thumb, braced himself on one arm, and pushed two fingers inside Dirk with the other. Dirk didn't expect it, his back arched and he reflexively shuddered away, but he was so wet and willing it didn't hurt at all.

He eased into it quick. Jake fucked Dirk slow, to open him up. The way Jake crooked his fingers was fantastic. Dirk found his g-spot difficult to stimulate, but Jake was going at it like he had x-ray vision and could hone in on it. The tight, hot build of internal pleasure overtook Dirk's body. He shut his eyes.

"How... how are you so good at this, dude?" Dirk stammered. "Like, this is incredible. I didn't know goddamn finger banging could feel this good."

"I've had quite a lot of training," said Jake. His fingers stilled, just for a moment. "This is my profession."

Well, shit. Maybe Vriska was right; this whole 'bad luck' thing _was_ just a venereal disease. Dirk frowned. "A prostitute? I thought you were a prince."

“’Prostitute’ is a loaded friggin’ word but I suppose Common doesn’t have a better translation of what I do. Courtesan, perhaps? Nonetheless, who says I can’t be both?”

"What kind of prostitute curses people?"

"That detail is a... recent development.” Jake pulled his hand out from beneath the covers, and sucked his fingers clean. He braced himself, and pressed his full erection against Dirk for round 2. He leaned in, and Dirk thought he was going for a kiss, but he simply hovered over Dirk’s lips and whispered, “Let’s talk about this later, love.”

The feeling of penetration felt so good that Dirk had no choice but to agree. Jake removed himself from kissing vicinity, and thrust gently into Dirk. Dirk let himself be fucked, shutting his eyes and relaxing, feeling the rippling waves cascading out beneath the bed. The charnel boat rocked on calm waters, holding them like a comfy hammock. It was weird, to not actively participate, but he was too tired to care much. Besides, felt fuckin’ great.

Dirk drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to totally fall asleep with the arousal building through him. This time, it was clear Jake wasn’t hyper focusing on Dirk’s reactions— Dirk figured he would have come in a minute flat if Jake did that pelvis-grinding trick with his piercing. Still, it bumped against Dirk’s dick on every beat, and it was only a matter of time before Dirk’s body fell to orgasm.

It was calm and long, his muscles too tired to contract and spasm much. It was like static discharging in him, a release of comfortable warmth as opposed to the usual explosion of fireworks. He wasn’t left oversensitive —good thing too, ‘cuz Jake wasn’t stopping or slowing— but he _was_ left exhausted. He felt sleep encroaching on him, quality penetration be damned.

“I- do you care if I fall asleep?” Dirk forced himself to say. He had a feeling the answer would be ‘no,’ but just in case…

“Not at all,” Jake said, softly. He stopped thrusting, and pulled out, slow. “I’ll turn you over, I think that would be more apt for good dreams.”

Dirk had no idea what the fuck Jake meant by that until he did it: rolling Dirk onto his stomach, pushing his open kimono up to his waist, and then re-entering him. The position was less stimulating for Dirk, due to the angle and the lack of hot dick-on-pelvis action. Jake moved steady and gentle, so it felt much more like a massage than heart-pounding stimulation.

“Don’t go too long…” muttered Dirk, his face smashed into the pillow. “Don’t want my eternal soul to be chafed or whatever.”

“Of course,” said Jake, his voice stuttering with arousal. “Promise. Cross my heart.”

Dirk was out like a light ten seconds later.

*******

Wakeup came much easier the second time around; mostly because his body didn't want to sleep any more. He was twitchy. Cramped. It was really fucking hot. Also, it felt like someone made a jelly sandwich between his thighs and the sexiness factor of that had long since hit rock bottom.

He opened his eyes in the same position Jake left him in. Jake was an inch away, on his back, fiddling with his rings, bored out of his mind. Dirk propped his head up on the pillow. His vision was clear, he had full control of his mind. He'd slept off the effects of dying, finally.

"Did you fill me up like a delicious cream horn?"

Jake laughed. "Less of that and more like... a splash of cream in your tea."

Dirk smiled. "Gross."

Jake's expression softened, and he stared transfixed at Dirk's mouth. It made Dirk very uncomfortable.

"I'm cleaning off," said Dirk, sitting up in the boat. He relaxed his arms and his kimono slid from his shoulders, pooling on the mattress.

Jake wiggled further beneath the blankets. "It's cold out there..."

The air was chilly on Dirk's bare skin, and he watched his breath come out in large white puffs. But it wasn't, say, arctic temperatures or anything drastic. It even felt good, after the heat of his bed. He pulled the blankets off his legs, twisted, and slipped off the ship.

The water level hit his hips. It was immediately clear Jake was just a pansy. The temperature was cold, certainly, but nothing Dirk hadn't felt before. It was like going for a morning swim.

He started cleaning himself out. He placed his free hand on the boat to anchor it; didn't want his good luck charm drifting away. He wondered about the logistics of death or injury on the Isle of the Dead: could you double-die if you were a fucking idiot? Did you just reset, get another boat, and have to do the whole thing over again? Hopefully he wouldn't have to find out.

Dead, huh. A shock much colder than the water took hold of him. He was too tired to process it earlier, but now that he could function, it gripped his heart like a clamp.

He was dead. No more card games with Roxy and Karkat. No more swimming races with Feferi. No more poisoning Vriska. He might never find out if Terezi beat the odds and ruled for a long, long time. He'd never see John again. Perhaps he'd never see his friends again, if they quit the pirating life, or if they didn't get out of their charnel boats when the Dead King came for them.

And he only had himself to blame. Jake deserved a good slap across the face, sure, but Dirk offed himself with nothing but his own willpower. Dirk could have handled anything Jake would have thrown at him, but as per usual, he couldn't handle his own goddamn self.

He took some solace in the fact that Jake was fucking stuck with him forever. Dirk was determined to wait on the Isle for each of his friends, or for eighty years, whichever came first. And Jake would be right next to him the entire goddamn time, because Dirk didn't want to doom the Isle by being a bad luck beacon.

But they'd see what the Dead King had to say. Dirk always wanted to meet the Dead King. He was hoping to meet him a little later in life, but whatever.

"Hey," said Dirk, shaking off his hand beneath the water. "Let's go find the Dead King."

"Already?" whined Jake. "Can't we elongate our siesta?"

Dirk sloshed to the burial nook where Jake threw his clothes, tugging the boat along behind him. Dirk's voice echoed in the round chamber. "Seriously? You look bored out of your mind, dude. Why put it off? Isn't that what you're here for?"

Dirk checked the dampness of all the items. Everything but the thick, bunched bustle skirt was dry. He must have been asleep for a while.

"Just not mentally prepared, is all," muttered Jake. "Besides, I have a policy of not beginning a new adventure on an empty stomach! I'm positively famished."

"You're pulling that out of your ass," said Dirk. He threw all of Jake's clothing into the boat, with the exception of the bustle skirt. Jake could just wear the two petticoats and shirt for now, he'd stand out less without the purple. "But I'll play your little games. There's theoretically food on the Isle, let's eat and figure out where to go."

Jake grumbled something into the pillow. Dirk ignored it. He pulled the boat from the tomb and into the stream, marching against the light current. The weather, temperature, and time of day hadn't changed whatsoever. Still cloudy gray, still daytime, still kinda cold. A crumbling fortress stuck in time.

There was a very small delta that funneled into the tomb, and Dirk beached the boat on the muddy sands. The dirt transitioned quickly into soft green grass that led into the peaceful and dark cypress forest. There was no one around, the only noises were the rhythm of the water lapping and the wind rustling through the tops of the trees.

Dirk dried off with a blanket, then put on his kimono and haori, careful to don it in the way that signified he was dead. The clothing felt pleasant and warm to wear after the chill of the water. Jake, grumbling like a petulant child, threw the blankets back and got dressed in his petticoats, sash, and shirt. He grabbed a knit afghan to wrap around him like a shawl, then stepped onto the grass.

Dirk wondered if any shoes or socks came with the getup. He ruffled through the boat, looking for a storage space, and found a small hatch holding some very fine lacquer sandals and white split socks. He sat down on the boat to dry his feet off and put them on.

Jake pointed at his socks. "Those are odd."

"These?" said Dirk, sliding the sock on and wiggling his big toe. "They're tabi, they're for sandals. Never seen them before?"

"Nope."

He put the sandal on, then worked on his other foot. "Interesting. See, I'm not part of the dominant ethnic group in the Prospit/Derse area, but my clothing and language and culture is prevalent enough to be common knowledge. If you were from anywhere this side of the hemisphere, you would have seen these socks before."

Jake didn’t respond. Dirk stood up once everything was in order. “Wanna tell me where you’re from?” he asked.

Jake shook his head ‘no.’ Of course not. 

Dirk extended a hand towards him. Jake glared at it like Dirk was offering him spoiled milk.

“It’s either this or I tie the ends of our belts together,” said Dirk. “And this has more dignity.”

Jake bit his lip, and placed his hand in Dirk’s. It always surprised Dirk, how soft Jake’s hands were. Dirk gave it a squeeze, for fun, then tugged Jake along into the mess of tall trees.

Dirk didn’t see any white-clad pirates in the area. The grove wasn’t huge, and it was split in two by the canal, so he figured everyone hung out towards the ‘bay’ area. Perhaps inside the sepulchral portals dotting the thick fortress walls. Fingers laced, they walked to the south.

They met an elderly pirate in a white frock coat sitting against the narrow trunk of a tree, at the very edge of the grove. He had his eyes closed, head tilted towards the forest canopy, in meditation. Dirk thought it would be a nice spot to read a book, then wondered if they even had books in the Isle. It'd be a boring fucking afterlife without any books to read.

Dirk told him they were new on the Isle, and asked where to find food. The man gestured towards the eastern wall, without a word. Dirk wondered how long he'd sat beneath the tree.

They had to cross the canal, so Dirk had Jake hold his sandals, plucked Jake into his arms —bridal style, obviously— and took a running leap over it. He didn’t think much of the feat, he did shit like this all the time on the _Black Diamond,_ but Jake’s face was flushed when they landed. He was so heated he had to take off his makeshift shawl. Dirk supposed he made Jake anxious with the stunt.

The dining hall was in the middlemost portal, nondescript besides for the smell of sweet fruit and smoke wafting from the doorway. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust after stepping inside, but the room in the darkness was much bigger than the walls outside would imply. It was like the kind of old, iron age, all-stone dining hall he’d seen in abandoned castles. Cobwebbed chandeliers from a grander era hung above the rows of decrepit wooden tables and benches, only half the candles on them lit, and the wax dripped sloppy and loud into uncleaned gutters along the rusted rims. The whole hall could seat a full army, but there were only about twenty people inside, most of them gathered around a game of cards. Three crows in the wood rafters peered down with their beady black eyes, utterly silent. Nobody was at the buffet table in the back.

Dirk had been leading for the short walk, but Jake took the charge at the sight of sustenance, pulling Dirk along like he was guiding a stubborn pet. The spread of food was pretty fucking nice, a lot better than the shit tier fare pirates were accustomed to. Tons of cold meats arranged fancily on old china, various white breads all sliced up, all sorts of cheeses, a lot of raw vegetables, so many that Dirk couldn’t identify all of them, and piles and piles of fresh fruit. The fresh fruit was what really peaked his interest: he hadn’t had any fruit since the lime wedges a week ago.

He figured he didn’t need to be concerned about calorie intake and protein and energy output and blah blah blah, since he didn’t have any hard work to do from now on. Therefore, he grabbed a soft piece of brioche, a hunk of brie, and filled the rest of his plate with as much fruit as he could. Thoughts of his health reminded him that he didn’t have his hammerfistedly strong masculinity liqueurs on hand any longer, and he doubted the Isle grew the correct herbs or possessed the right equipment to make more. He’d have to ask the Dead King about it: it’d be very unfair to have to cut his wait time short just because the afterlife was only equipped for a certain type of dude.

Jake bypassed all the fruit and filled his plate with meats, cheeses, exactly one piece of bread, and every single vegetable. They set their plates down at the nearest dining table, then made a second trip to go get drinks from the punch bowl. They stopped holding hands in order to shovel food in their mouths. Dirk was used to hunger, so he didn’t notice how absolutely famished he was until he ate his first handful of sweet, over-ripe raspberries.

They ate in silence, next to each other. Jake looked positively elated to be eating with his hands, and shoveled meat down his throat so fast Dirk thought he was going to choke. Dirk was halfway done with his fruit plate when he noticed one of the dead pirates at the card table watching them.

It took him a moment to recognize who it was, and as soon as he did, he jerked his head down to glare at his cantaloupe. But it was too late. They made eye contact. The following trip to batshit embarrassment shame town would be unavoidable.

“Who’s the ruffled-looking fellow coming towards us?” whispered Jake, surprisingly subtle.

“Gamzee Makara, one of those drugged up pirates who’re generally chill and useless. He snapped and threw a shit fit a long time back, in the middle of that tavern where we saw your sister,” whispered Dirk, as fast as he could. “Kanaya sliced him in half after he bludgeoned Nepeta. It’s been three years, shit, I didn’t think he’d have a reason to wait around.”

“Okay, bad news bears, roger dodger.”

Gamzee sauntered towards the both of them, wearing the kind of white robed finery that would look better on a high-ranking priest for a strict and cruel god. He still had the freaky skull facepaint, somehow. Dirk felt his soul facepalm. Gods, what was he thinking with this guy?

Gamzee sat on the opposite bench, beaming with a full set of teeth. Dirk clearly remembered Nepeta punching out his front teeth, so that was a change. Dirk pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to die of embarrassment.

“Aw, hey, Strider, dude, sucks you died, bro,” said Gamzee, with the calm, meandering tone of someone blazed off their ass. “But I’m hype to see you. There’s been a severe lack of sick rap battles here in the fuckin’ afterlife. And you know, my dude, like the last time we joined together in holy duet, our epic raps will lead into erotic battles of the flesh beneath, and let me tell you everything is fully fuckin’ operational when you’re dead, and ONCE AGAIN, WE WILL FUCK LIKE-”

“Ah, we haven’t met, I’m Dirk’s beloved!” hummed Jake, wiggling the appropriate finger on his right hand, where he wore a gold band. “We were engaged last evening, before my failed escape. He drowned trying to save my faulty rowboat in a storm after I fled from my cruel brothel madam. And I threw myself into the waves in despair when I held his pale breathless body in my arms! It was the most romantic moment of my fitfully short life.”

Thank _fuck_ for Jake. Dirk ran through the library of fiction he’d read in his life and didn’t think he’d heard of the book Jake was referencing. Or maybe Jake was making it up. It was creative, Dirk liked it.

“Dope as MOTHER FUCK!” said Gamzee, his train of thought thankfully derailed. He turned towards Dirk. “Glad you got an exotic ball-and-chain, my bro, you earned it.”

“My good sir, would you be so kind as to direct us towards the Dead King?” asked Jake, leaning forward towards Gamzee and batting his eyelashes all pretty. “We’d like him to marry us before we pass on through the final gate! It’s our last wish.”

“Hell yeah man, I love me some happy motherfuckin’ endings,” said Gamzee, and pointed towards the exit. “Kind of a climb, bros. Literally. You gotta scale that back cliff, like the one where the final gate is, and then hop down this well thingamajig. Don’t worry, the King’s a big motherfucking sweetheart, you won’t get hurt or anything nasty.”

“Huh, he doesn’t make it easy,” said Dirk, feeling brave enough to talk.

“Motherfucker likes to be alone. Probably gets all up and crazy in his thinkpan when he’s listening in on people’s futures all the fucking time,” said Gamzee. He stood up from the bench, swaying precariously, like he was drunk. Dirk didn’t see any alcohol on the buffet table. “Anyway, don’t wanna encroach on your marital motherfucking bliss or any such shit. Nice smellin’ you. Hit me up if you’re bored, bro.”

Before Gamzee took his leave, Dirk asked, “Why’d you stick around here for three years?”

He thought about this, blinking sticky-slow. He pointed at the rafters, at the crows ever-watching. “I like feeding the birds.”

A shiver spread down Dirk’s back. Gamzee drifted off towards the card game. Dirk finally took a breath.

“Wow,” said Dirk, when Gamzee was safely out of range. “That was smooth as melted butter, dude. I didn’t know you were so slick.”

“In all honesty, I can’t do that sort of thing for very long…” said Jake, and he held both his hands out towards Dirk. They were trembling. “See! I’m all nervous from telling those lies… I get so scared I’m going to mess up. I usually fuck right the fuck up and trip all over my words, haha, that was a very rare occasion where I played the glib tongue correctly.”

On instinct, Dirk reached out and grabbed Jake’s hands, to still them. “I dunno about that, dude. You’ve been doing an incredible job of being a cagey, lying bastard for the entire time I’ve known you.”

Jake smiled, sadly. “Only because for most of that period, I refused to speak in your language. Then there was no way I could mess up.”

Dirk wondered why Jake was sad. He didn’t ask about it, because he became aware he was still holding Jake’s hands for no reason at all. He dropped them, and turned back to his food.

“Finish eating,” said Dirk, unpeeling a tangerine with his thumbnail. “And I’ll give ya a piggyback.”


	10. You're Off To Pirate Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the great comments, everyone! I really appreciate all the support.

The climb didn't look very difficult. It was a vertical crevice. Rocky, but not sharp, like there used to be a deep cut waterfall there that dried up long ago. There were handholds worn into the white rock from thousands of pirates journeying to the top. It was still pretty fucking tall, but it'd be a great contender for 'baby's first free climb.'

Jake insisted he could climb it by himself, but his voice was a little shaky, and Dirk didn't trust those delicate toothpick legs to do anything complicated. He didn't want to risk Jake falling and him being stuck all alone on a cliff with his bad luck vibes. So he opted for the piggyback option.

They borrowed a janky homemade shank from one of the pirates in the dining hall. They cut up and rolled Jake’s discarded bustle skirt into a makeshift rope, and tied Jake’s legs to Dirk’s hips, and his chest to Dirk’s shoulders. Dirk left his sandals, socks, and haori at the bottom of the cliff, loosened his kimono and tied the sleeves back, and got to climbing.

It wasn't hard, even with the added weight. The most difficult part was trying to avoid bashing Jake's elbows and knees into the rock. Jake's cheek was pressed to his for the entire climb, and halfway up it got a little distracting. Which was obnoxious; Dirk should have been sexed out by now. But _nope,_ apparently soft skin against his was a recipe for an insta-boner. He could go for Jake nibbling on his ear right now. Or something more.

"Hey," said Dirk, bracing himself between the walls of the crevice so he had the energy to talk. "Why haven't you kissed me?"

"Because we're kind of in the middle of a harrowing climb, and I feel pretty friggin' silly on your back like this..."

"I mean in general. Why haven't you kissed me?"

"I've kissed you! I've kissed you so much I left all sorts of colors on your skin."

"No, I mean, on the mouth. Why haven't you kissed me on the mouth?"

Jake thought about this. "Because that seems rather intimate, don't you think?"

The implications of that were so baffling Dirk chose not to respond. He continued climbing.

They reached the apex without issue, and Dirk hefted them onto the flat, smooth plateau on top of the cliff. The view of the Isle was nice, there was a new boat coming in with a passenger who looked content staying in bed, but oceanside the view was all clouds and gray mist. He felt the wind move through him, icy cold. Dirk’s limbs were tired but not in bad shape, and he felt sleepy again; probably from gorging on the fruit and then exerting himself.

Jake helped untie himself. Dirk noticed that while his kimono was still a pristine white --albeit a little lopsided-- Jake's outfit was stained with the dust and dirt of the white chalk walls. Guess Dirk had a built-in cleaning service with his burial clothes. Neat.

There was a hole cut into the middle of the plateau, and they stood together at the edge of it. Gamzee’s descripton was pretty accurate: it looked like an over-sized well, aesthetic fairytale bricks and all. It was wide enough that, if they jumped down, they wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into the white-mortared walls. The hole went deep, where the light didn’t shine, and Dirk told Jake to throw one of his rings down to gauge the height. Jake picked the thick band on his pointer finger.

Dirk counted each second, until he heard the small 'cling-cling-cling' of the ring bouncing against a hard rock floor. Jake winced when he heard it.

Seven seconds to impact. Pretty deep. No water at the bottom. He'd certainly die if attempting the jump while alive.

“Do we have to?” whined Jake. “Surely there’s another way to go meet the Dead King! It would be very unfair to the pirates who aren’t able to make the climb, like that chap at the bathhouse, if this were the only way to see him.”

"Yeah, probably. But we’re here. And I’m not worried: I'm already dead, you can't die, and the clown downstairs said we'd be fine," said Dirk.

"You're trusting that kooky weirdo?" said Jake, offended. "Were you truly so seduced by his carnal promises that you lost your mind?"

"Look, contrary to popular belief I am _not_ down with the clown, it's just nothing gets me harder than two hour poetic rap battles, and boy did that fuckface deliver," said Dirk, glaring at Jake. Jake appeared to take a mental note of this, nodding very seriously at Dirk. “What are you so scared of, English? Is it the pain? Or the Dead King himself?”

Jake’s breath came out in a large, white cloud, and he shivered hard. "I suppose I'm scared about the tricks I might have to pull on him..."

Dirk narrowed his eyes. "Explain. Tricks like ‘turning tricks’ or tricks like John's shitty pranks?"

Jake's face dissolved into panic. He glanced around for help, found none, and instead pressed the back of his knuckles to his forehead. He swayed back and forth precariously. He shut his eyes and started talking like a middle-aged noble woman who moonlighted as a mediocre soubrette performer.

"Oooohhhh I'm sorry I can't hear a word you're saying my corset is toooooooo tight! I feel faint all of a sudden! I swoooooon," sighed Jake, tilting sideways and dramatically falling into the hole. Dirk lunged for him, caught a hold of his shirt, and toppled into the void after him.

They plummeted, and fear took hold of him. Gravity shot through his heart like a bullet. There was no way he could have been mentally prepared for this, no way to logic the unrelenting horror into nonexistence. Jake felt the same mind-wiping fear, judging by how he screamed into the void. Between that and the hammering of his heart, Dirk almost missed the sound of a murder of crows flapping their wings in tandem. He felt the gust of wind generated by their sheer power.

It was too dark to see them, but they rushed up to meet Dirk and Jake in a billowing cloud of black, their wings slamming into Dirk’s body and changing his trajectory. He managed to keep his grip on Jake as they overtook him, surrounded him, and slowed his descent. There were feathers in his mouth. It smelled like bird shit.

They cushioned him, supported his lower body. His horror calmed as he no longer felt the sensation of falling, just gently dropping. When the cloud of crows gave way, and he landed on the rock beneath his feet, his heart rate was almost back to normal. Almost. Jake bent over and picked up his ring.

They were in an underground aviary. Made of the same white rock as most of the Isle, the cavern was tall and curved, with thousands of holes carved into the walls all the way to the ceiling. The hundreds of crows that saved Dirk and Jake funneled into their individual portals with a flurry of beating wings. They perched on thin rods at the bottom of the holes, and all stared silently at the pair.

It was dark down here, but there were a few skylights that allowed lines of gray light to cut through the blackness. Feathers floated in the silver beams. Oddly, it was much warmer than upstairs.

The Dead King sat on a bench within arms reach. He hadn’t moved since they arrived.

“’Sup,” said the Dead King. He shook his right hand, and the crow flew off it. It landed on Dirk’s shoulder, heavier than he thought it’d be, and Dirk tried not to move. His heart rate hadn’t lowered.

The Dead King stood, and clasped his black cloak shut. He was thin as a rail and very tall, like a pole holding a large black tent. He loomed over both Dirk and Jake, and neither of them were short dudes. Pirate lore said Death had a sense of humor, and John confirmed this with the addendum of, quote, ‘being a total douche bag!’ This didn’t make the Dead King any less intimidating. But, he had to man up and speak to his King. First thing’s first: Dirk had something very important to do.

"Your majesty," said Dirk, making a motion to bow. The crow shifted on his shoulder, and the goddamn critter was heavy as fuck, so Dirk couldn’t complete the action. "Before we get to Jake's business, I'd like to make a request."

"Please, call me Dave. 'Your majesty' is badass and all, and I really dug it that you adhered to that title fuckin' religiously in life, but once you're on the Isle I don't give a shit about my coolking reputation. Since it’s not like you'll have the chance to tell anyone that Dave's a huge fucking dork or whatever slander you'd spread to your fam. Anyway, request time, yeah, hit me, I'll probably say no just 'cuz I don't do favors but hey, I won't judge ya."

The deadpan he talked with was incredible, Dirk would give _anything_ to emulate that tone of voice. His mouth barely fucking moved. His body didn’t move at all, he stood there like a shadow of a statue. Unlike John, or hell, unlike the Sea King, the Dead King didn’t move like anything alive. It was unnerving.

“Dave,” Dirk said, carefully. It was awkward to say. “I’d like you to bring a plague upon my Captain, Vriska Serket. It’s my final wish. Preferably, I want her to be paralyzed by like, I don’t know, extreme diarrhea for two weeks or something equally disgusting. She earned it.”

The Dead King didn’t react. Dirk was afraid that Dave didn’t hear him, or that Death phased out of existence or something, but he eventually quirked his head. Like a crow.

"Vriska? Oh shit, I haven't seen her since when she was like yea high-" Dave tossed back his cloak and gestured towards the ground, imitating the height of a small child. "Hey, speaking of the little ladies, you know TZ? I mean, everyone knows about fuckin' TZ but are you _in_ with her? I chill with her once in a blue moon, you know, catch up on the hot goss'. I'll tell her you said hi from beyond the pale."

Dirk raised an eyebrow at how the Dead King took about ten running jumps to the conclusion of that monologue. "Yeah, I sailed with her."

"Of course you did, you're besties, I read all your fate threads. I was just asking for decorum, you know, the art of the conversation," said the Dead King. He gestured towards Jake, who appeared to be ignoring them and having a staring contest with the crow on Dirk’s shoulder. "And while this fuck over to your right is blocking off some of your futures and leaving me stumbling in the dark, in like 95% of your current threads this is what you're gonna ask next: 'hey, Dave, my man, my main guy, my fav god who is way better and hotter than Rose in every way, did you really give TZ those creepy-ass eyeball voids when she was yea high' and to that I say, 'yeah sure did, dudearooni, I still got her old ones.'"

The Dead King pulled back his hat. In his sockets were two teal eyes, one of them milky white, the other lazy and lolling off far to the right. He shoved his hat back down, and there was a 'plunk plunk' noise. Dirk had the sense the eyes dropped into some void or another.

Good to know. He wasn’t aware that Terezi _traded_ her eyes. Dirk didn’t think the Dead King did trades. She or Vriska never said anything about trades, they only said that they summoned the Dead King to flee the Mothers. Which Dirk assumed was an embellishment, but apparently not.

However, he was more interested in what the Dead King said about Jake. Dirk narrowed his eyes. "How's he blocking off your vision of the future?"

"Well," said Dave, who tilted his head just slightly towards Jake. A single crow cawed, its voice echoed in the tomb. "Why don't you ask him?"

Jake jerked his gaze away from Dirk’s shoulder crow. He inhaled, and tried not to look so scared. His voice cracked like he was going through puberty. "Actually I was hoping we could get right to the meat and potatoes of it all! Um, Dave, King, Sir, would you be kind enough to remove this curse I am under?"

Dave's answer was immediate. "It's not a curse."

Jake laughed, nervously. "Certainly you're mistaken, it makes my life incredibly unpleasant, and the boons do not outweigh the-"

"It's not a curse. My sister Jade gave it to you. Ask her to take it back."

“Well I think it falls under the technical definition of a curse, because it’s plaguing my-”

“You keep using that word,” said Dave. “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Dirk’s mouth twitched into a smile. Jake gasped, excited at the direct quote. “Oh, we were _just_ talking about The Princess Bride! I love those books!”

Dave chuckled. “Yeah dude, the only thing I love more than The Princess Bride are callbacks.” His mouth snapped back into a flat line. “Anyway, hey, it’s been, what? Five hundred years since I’ve seen her? Can’t quite recall. And, say, I’d appreciate it if you help me out. Where is she?”

“Cure my curse and I’ll-”

“And why do you have, like, this half-baked bootleg set of her powers? And why do you keep giving these poor dudes lifelong guidance issues? Like, me and Jade have been to —let me tell you— some wild orgies, and she _never once_ fucked someone into incompetency. How many people have you done that to now? You’re blocking off some of your past but I’m going to take a shot in the dark here and say ‘three.’”

The pitch of Jake’s voice raised to pre-ball-drop levels. It was hard to tell what he was saying due to the speed in which he spat out the words. “Uh, I’m not very good at controlling it and for some reason it only comes out when I engage in mutual pleasures of the flesh, so-”

Dave’s volume finally raised. “Where _the fuck_ is she, dude?”

So Jake definitely had something to do with the Star King. Confirmed and checked. Cross referencing the Dead King’s info with previous conversations Dirk had with the other two Kings also seemed to imply that Jake just… had a shitty version of her powers. He could absolutely see how the silver compass factored into that, but the undying shit and the bad luck spreading through sex didn’t make much sense. 

Jake covered his face with his hands, like trying to hide his nonexistent tears. It took him a while to recover. But when he did, he did not shake, he didn’t speak too fast, and he stood straight and tall. His eyes were dark with something like lust. He tilted his head in a way that emphasized the vulnerable part of his neck.

“I could show you?” said Jake, with the seductive lilt Dirk knew pretty well at this point. “Come with me.”

Dave stood there, statuesque. Jake waited him out. “Nah,” said Dave. “Just tell me.”

“What if I sweeten the pot?” said Jake, stepping forward graceful as a dancer. He got very close to Dave, within kissing distance. “Would you come with me then?”

In the ballsiest move Dirk had ever seen in his fucking life, Jake reached out and unhooked the large clasp on the Dead King’s cloak. He did it in one gesture, and it fell from Dave’s shoulders, pooling in a black void of cloth and feathers around his boots. The Dead King’s outfit was fine and tailored as all hell, and the silver threads and baubles glinted in the gray light. Dave still did not move.

Jake took Dave’s hand in his own, and the Dead King did not resist. Jake pressed Dave’s fingers to his lips, gave him the big ol’ bedroom eyes, and started peeling off Dave’s glove with his teeth. Finger by finger. Dirk's eyebrows raised into the stratosphere.

"You just gonna cuck your cool friend over there?" said Dave, completely unperturbed.

Jake loosened all the fingers, slowly drew the glove off with his teeth, and let it fall to the floor. The hand beneath was pale white, freckled, with a wrist thicker than what the glove showed, and _definitely_ didn’t match the skin above Dave’s neck. Jake didn’t gawk at it like Dirk was doing, or even seemed to notice.

"We’re not friends," said Jake, like that made it any better.

Jake drew his tongue along Dave’s pointer finger, showing off his piercings. Unlike Dirk, who would have lost control of his dick at this point, Dave made no indication he could feel the sensation. But when Jake dropped his grip on the Dead King’s wrist, the Dead King did not move his hand away. Jake popped Dave’s middle finger into his mouth, putting on a gaudy show over how well he could suck oblong cylinders of flesh. As he did this, he slowly took off the Dead King’s other glove.

Jake was pulling this off as perfectly as he could, considering the circumstances. Seducing the personified concept of death. It occurred to Dirk that Jake probably only had one single thing he felt confident doing, and this was it. Dirk didn’t feel jealousy, or awkwardness, or even that much disgust. He just felt sad. For the first time, he wondered if Jake had any hobbies, or dreams or goals, or like, fucking anything that didn’t involve weird seduction tactics.

"Wow," said the Dead King. "You know I have this horrible rotting aura around me, right? It's switched off right now, but hey, I could snap my fingers and BAM! You're swiss cheese and your face falls off."

Jake blinked, completely unafraid. He shifted his head so Dave’s thumb glided out of his mouth and bumped up against the snakebites. His lips were all pouty and kissable. "That's fine. More holes for you to play with?"

Dirk might have been imagining it, but he thought the Dead King's mouth twitched. "Nasty," said the Dead King. “Anyway, what do you want me to do, now? Follow you home? Think _real_ hard about what you're saying, dude. You don't want Death stalking you."

"On the contrary," said Jake, his green eyes glinting in the light. "I would _very much_ like that."

Jake dropped the other glove. Beneath was a delicate, effeminate, light brown hand with an elaborate purple manicure. One of the expensive ones with really sharp and really long nails. 

What the fuck was Jake after, with this? The crow shifted on Dirk's shoulder, and slid its beak right up against his ear, from the side so it didn't poke out anything important. Dirk wasn't all that surprised when it whispered to him.

"Be not afraid, no harm will come to you," hissed the crow, with a scratchy voice that sounded exactly like what Dirk imagined a bird would talk like. "You will not pass into the final death until you're well and ready. We're just gonna put on a little show for English here, don't be frightened."

Cool of him to give Dirk a warning for whatever spooky shit he was going to do. Once the crow finished talking, Dave moved. It was lightning fast. In the blink of an eye, Dave went from passive to active, the hand at Jake’s mouth latching onto his chin and squeezing his cheeks together and forcing him to make a dumb kissy face, and the hand at his side gripping Jake’s arm and forcing Jake to lean back and look Dave in the… hat. When he spoke, his voice sounded much more human, a deadpan with barely constrained rage behind it.

“Firstly, it’s seriously fuckin’ rude to do this shit in front of a third party who, if you’ve noticed, hasn’t fucking consented into participating into some voyeuristic three way,” hissed Dave. “Secondly, you think this is my first rodeo? That this is the first time some so-called sexpert master has done the ‘seduce death’ tapdance routine on me? Doesn’t work, dude. And don’t try playing chess with me either. Thirdly, I choose my own partners, not the other way around, and I don’t smash anyone under the age of 40 or I feel like a fucking cradle robber.”

“Mghghppgh,” said Jake, through his squished lips.

“So what’s the game here? Trying to kill me with your shitty uncontrollable dick powers? That's a fuckin' laugh. Trying to kill death, what a riot, I'm cracking up," said the Dead King, returning to a complete flatline. He let go of Jake, who didn’t look so interested in sex anymore. Dave picked up his gloves and cloak, then slid everything back on as he continued talking. “But I don’t think you are. I think you really _are_ trying to get me to stalk you. Too bad you’re never gonna leave this Isle. Well, until you pass on into the great unknown with Strider and his boat, that is. Which will be happening within the next ten minutes.”

Jake didn’t have a whole lot of time to digest the threat. The Dead King raised his hand, contorted his fingers into an OK gesture, and flicked Jake in the forehead.

Dirk felt it too. The slight strike in the middle of his bangs. He fell backwards, and backwards, through the floor and into the pitch black. The crow leapt from his shoulder, and took off in flight.

He landed on his ass, comfortably, on top of the mattress in his charnel boat. Jake landed gently in his lap, with about as much force as if he simply decided to sit down on Dirk from a reasonable height. Jake immediately tried to scramble off of Dirk, but the boat was too narrow to sit them side by side. They ended in an awkward half-on-top-of-each-other pose in the aft. Dave perched on top of the swirly decoration at the stern behind them. His knees were an inch away from Dirk’s back.

Despite the sheer amount of weight in the rear, the boat floated evenly along the water as though it had perfect balance. They had been teleported to the canal Dirk arrived in, about a yard away from the final sepulchral portal Jake went through great effort to avoid. The door would take them to whatever lay beyond this mortal coil, the final rest of the soul. It loomed, pitch black and horrifyingly unknown, and they were sailing fast into it. Jake gripped Dirk’s thigh so hard he thought Jake’s nails would rip through the fabric.

“Wait!” yelped Jake, making a motion to roll over Dirk and dive into the water. “Stop, icci, I don’t want to-!”

Dave tapped Jake in the face with his probably-pretty-bony calf, preventing him from diving off. “Uh, please keep your hands and other extremities inside the ride at all times, and no flash photography.”

“What’s photography,” Dirk muttered, as they glided into the portal, and were plunged into pitch black. Dirk still felt the boat moving along the smooth water, the slight breeze through his hair.

“Okay, so, here’s the lowdown,” said Dave, in the dark. “You’ve got until the highlight reel of Dirk’s life is over to tell me where my sister is. Once the ride’s done, bam, you’re fucking dead forever, no god or force or your own shitty bootleg powers can bring you back. So it’s your choice: you wanna tell me, get on my good side, and go down in the annuls of history as a pirate!hero who helped find our lost god? Or do you wanna be a fuckin’ evil, selfish piece of shit and not help our team?”

Both Jake and Dirk twisted their bodies around to yell vaguely into the dark towards Dave.

“What!?” blurted Jake, confused.

“A highlight reel of my life!?” blurted Dirk, confused.

“Shh, shh, shut the fuck up, this is the best part. Ready?” said Dave, sounding genuinely hyped. He reached down and tapped Jake’s shoulder, with excitement. A voice echoed in the dark, sounding like someone yelling through a rolled up piece of tin. Dave said it perfectly in sync with the gleeful, campy voice: “Dead men tell no tales…”

The boat dipped, and they glided down some sort of waterfall. Dirk didn’t react at all; it was very short and lame, but Jake fell for the ruse. He shrieked, and clutched Dirk tight around the shoulders. He shivered against Dirk. The surroundings started to lighten up, like there were candles at the end of the tunnel they were in.

“Was that supposed to be scary, dude?” Dirk asked the Dead King. He started to hear tinny music, faint in the background. “That was like one foot high.”

“Yeah, well, 99% of everybody sleeps through this shit, so I gotta be gentle, you know? Don’t wanna wake ‘em up if they’re not in the mood for a dark ride,” said Dave. Dirk could see the outline of Dave’s head, bobbing in time with the growing tinny music. The Dead King also might have been smiling, it was still too dim to tell. “But you are lucky enough to be awake for my buckwild creations. I wrote this song myself and all. Figure the last thing you’ll ever hear might as well be an ear worm.”

They sailed into the lit room. They were still in a canal, which cut through an incredibly shitty life-size diorama of Dirk’s childhood village. The ceilings and walls were painted with spongy blue and white to imitate a cloudy sky, the floor surrounding the canal painted with tan for the sands, and the room they floated through was littered with mock-huts made from scrap. It looked like a ten year old put it together.

Some of the villagers, most of whom he’d forgotten, were represented by decrepit dressmaker dolls with their names painted on them. They were posed around town in shitty kimono and even shittier wigs. They had fishing rods, nets, wares to sell, were in humorous poses… Some characters got special dummies. His father was represented as a sack of potatoes with a funky hat thrown on top of it. His mother was rendered as two broomsticks, a pile of spaghetti, and a pink kimono that looked like someone got murdered in it. There was sign painted in the dankest black paint Dirk had ever seen, in Dirk’s first language, labeled ‘SHITTY FISH VILLAGE’ but with the character for ‘root’ so it made an obtuse colloquial pun about ballsacks.

The creative value was terrible, the antithesis of art, the worst set backdrop Dirk had ever seen and he’d been to a _lot_ of bad pirate theater productions. This was _awful._ It was the best thing he’d ever witnessed in his life. If the Dead King told him to drop dead right now, he’d die a happy man.

The Dead King proceeded to rap-sing-yell like he was having the time of his fucking life. Dirk couldn’t hear the original words of the tune resonating within the room, just what the Dead King was unabashedly belting out. Dirk couldn’t help himself: he started beaming and nodding along to the beat. Jake looked like he was about to die of a heart attack. The boat sailed on through the town.

_to the tune of Yo Ho (A Pirate's Life for Me)_

[[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3A19q7rysLs)] [[spotify link (first repetition only)](https://open.spotify.com/track/35zjgo7EZJ84SgBSKD7TQT)]

* * *

Yo ho, yo ho, _(whispered, loudly, in Jake's ear): you've got eight fucking minutes until you die, you little bitch_  
Hey English, you earned this, you wannabe cuck  
Tell me your secrets, yo ho  
I'm badass and baller and don't give a fuck  
I act on my threats, _no I really do, okay_

Yo ho, yo ho, you're off to pirate hell  
You're charming, you lie, you're not much like Dirk  
Respect to m'pirate, yah bro  
Strider's life's pretty cool, he's not a huge jerk  
_(points at shitty manikin)_ Check out these dummies, CLAP CLAP

Yo ho, yo ho, this is a huge tangent:  
I'm glad you became a pirate, Sir Dirk  
The seas called to you, fuck yeah  
You'd have wasted away on fisherman's work  
We'd've never met, yo ho

Jake's thieving, and vile, evil, and shit  
His fates I can read, _just a little_  
Cruelty's great when you're a pirate!  
Should be on our side, you know?

Yo ho, yo ho, _tell me where the Star King is before the song ends you fucking moron ugh god I’m gonna throttle you_  
You're not a great noble, ever thought of a change?  
Try a new career, yo ho  
Tell me where Jade is and join the phalange  
Become a pirate, yeah booooooooooooooooooi

| 

Jake clasped his hands together and fearfully looked up towards the fake sky when the Dead King bent over and rasped death threats in his ear. Jake tried to make another escape attempt, but Dave kicked him right back into the boat. Dirk was too busy enjoying the sheer ironic shittiness to either comfort Jake or berate him.

The canal turned a corner, and they sailed through another ‘river’ of Dirk’s old fishing village. At the end of the room, there was a dark door that probably led into the next era of Dirk’s life. Lining the canal, there were a bunch of tiny manikins made from papier-mâché and yarn, of Dirk and the other little toddler gals who were about to get on the fisherwomen’s caste boat with him. Dirk stared at his miniature self, remembered the pink kimono with the flowers and the widdle black pigtails he had. While his childhood memories weren’t… great, he thought his four year old self made for a pretty cute papier-mâché doll.

Jake was momentarily distracted by the Dirk-doll, twisting his head to glare at it. He blinked a couple times, then looked at Dirk, and said, confused, “Oh? Did you pull a gender switcharoo?”

There were literally 1,000 responses Dirk could have had to that question, and he was paralyzed as to which one he should pick. He felt his face contort into the scrunched up expression of someone smelling something incredibly pungent, and answered, “What the fuck.”

He was so weirded out he almost missed the real, flesh-and-blood person sitting at the very end of the canal.  
  
---|---  
  
“Aaaaauughgh! Stop! Stop this dumb song! I can’t take it any more!” said the Wind King, standing up from his spot against the wall. He threw his arms up, and a gust of wind bellowed through the room. The source of the music, wherever it was coming from, was cut instantly. Dave shut his mouth. The bonafide tornado John summoned blew all of the shitty diorama away, and dried up the canal beneath them. The boat flopped to the hard rock ground with a jostling plunk.

Dirk got out of the boat, and helped Jake stand up on the rocky floor. Jake looked relieved the ride stopped. The Dead King stood up, balancing perfectly on the narrow swirl of the stern, and loomed like a very pissed shadow.

“John?” said Dirk, very surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

John floated into the canal, hovering above the dry rock as his veils swirled around him. He frowned at Dirk.

“Oh, shit, I didn’t know you died, dude,” said John. “Sucks. Too bad Dave has a stick up his ass and refuses to resurrect anybody! Unless if he changed his corporate policy…?”

Dave didn’t move. “Hell no.”

Wait. What was that?

Hope blossomed in Dirk's chest, kicking all the gears and machinery of his brain into action. There was no piece of pirate lore that implied the Dead King could resurrect anybody. Nothing. Nada. There were only stories that hammered in the opposite: that Dave could only kill, that his touch only brought Death, never life.

But John basically just stated that wasn’t true. Which meant there was a small, small chance Dirk could leave the Isle, and not in a charnel boat. He just had to convince the Dead King to let him live. He _really_ wanted to live.

Dave folded his arms. “Seriously, what are you doing cramping my style? I had a great thing cooking here.”

"Rose told me to drop by and stop this nonsense!" said John, bobbing in the air like a buoy. "I'm pretty sure she would have rather come here herself but she's, you know, an octopus. So it's just me!"

"What the fuck, how'd she know what was going on? Is she hackin’ the ride footage or something?"

The Dead King must have said ‘no’ to thousands upon thousands of pirates who asked to be brought back to life. He'd probably heard every argument, tear jerking story, bribe, and threat in the book. And Dirk couldn't try to appeal to Dave's heart. The Dead King seemed to like Dirk, but that didn't mean shit. If the Dead King never resurrected a dear human friend or a lover when they asked, then what chance did some random fucko have? There was no possibility of Dirk convincing Dave to bring him back.

But... _a god_ might be able to convince him.

"No! Rose has a- uh-" John glanced at Jake, nervously. Dirk assumed he was referring to the 'tracker' light the Sea King put inside Jake; Jake didn't know about it, because he was asleep at the time. "-I'll tell you later, dude. Anyway, you're supposed to stop threatening Jake like this, since she's pretty sure he won't tell you where Jade is, like he'll take the secret to his grave. Or he'll escape, since Rose told me he's got Jade's powers! Which makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it for like two seconds."

"What? No? Fuck what Rose wants. Just _look_ at this guy, he has no fucking willpower, he's like a gigantic wimpy pushover just waiting for somebody to blow him down with a hell of a threat."

"I don't know about that! I think he's got a lot of will power. He pretended he didn't speak Common for two whole weeks! He even tricked _me!"_ said John, grinning encouragingly at Jake. Jake nervously smiled back. John floated along the canal, over the hull of the boat, then hovered up to Dave's eye level atop the swirl of the stern decoration. "I'll just tell you what's up, bro."

John put his mouth to Dave's ear, hid his lips with his hand, and whispered whatever plan the Kings had to Dave. Dirk could not hear even the smallest hint of any words: John's control of the wind included sound and breath and stuff, as far as Dirk could tell. Jake tried to make a run for it while the Kings were distracted, but Dirk grabbed Jake's arm and reined him back in. He had no idea where the hell Jake would be trying to run to, anyway.

So. Back to the most important issue at hand. How to convince John to convince Dave to resurrect Dirk. Dirk had an idea. But gods, it was one hell of a double edged sword. It was the card he'd had up his sleeve for a long time, in case he ever needed John to do something _really important_ that John didn't want to do. He figured this qualified as an acceptable use of it.

“Huh. Well fuck me,” said Dave, as John finished explaining. “That’s pretty good.”

John drifted down towards the floor, and Dave hopped off the stern. They stood/floated beside Jake and Dirk. Dirk noted that John hovered _just_ high enough to match Dave’s ridiculous height. 

“Okay, so, jk, not gonna kill you, just gonna let you go,” said Dave, to Jake. He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go on, get.”

Jake was baffled. “I don’t want to go! I want you to take away these obnoxious powers!”

"Can't," said Dave, shrugging. "They're not mine to touch. Not sure how you came to the conclusion I could do anything with them. If you don't want them, give them back to Jade."

"And you're sure you don't want me to... show you where she is? You can follow me home."

"Nah," said Dave. He pointed at John with his thumb. "But John'll follow ya."

John waggled his eyebrows. Jake was shocked by this turn of events, his mouth dropping open, looking completely dumbfounded. Dirk didn't know why he reacted this way, nor did he know why the Kings decided the Winds would stalk Jake as opposed to Death. Perhaps because Jake wanted Death in particular to follow him, and never went after the Wind or Sea? It _was_ kind of suspicious.

“Okay, buddy, ready to ditch Dave’s house?” said John, clapping his hands towards Jake. Jake did not look keyed up to leave. John spread his arms out towards Dirk, like he wanted a hug. “Sorry to say goodbye, Dirk, but I hope you have fun in the great beyond! Wherever it may lead.” 

Dirk shut his eyes, clenched his fists, and steeled himself. This was his chance. He had to do it. The deal with the devil. Cutting off his metaphorical arm so he could live.

"Wait. John," said Dirk, as bold and as confident as he could manage. John dropped his arms, his interest peaked. "Do you remember the night we met, the night Vriska and I literally chugged an entire keg of bootleg gin and we were so _fucking wasted_ we bet our pure, virginal, totally-definitely-untouched innocence on a game of dice with you? That we lost?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I should come clean, since you're dead and all... I thought you were both super hot so I cheated! I'm so sorry about that," said John, mournfully. Dave glowered at him, offended. "No, dude, it's fine, because Vriska was also cheating! She was using weighted di-"

"And do you remember the depravities that ensued?" continued Dirk, as he tried desperately not to remember the depravities that ensued. "And do remember how the next morning, when we found out we fucked the _Wind King himself,_ I said in my hungover haze, the memory of Vriska's horrible, horrible bouncing bared bosom still burned into my cranium: 'I swear on your fucking name and the names of all your siblings that I will be down to do whatever you want, _except_ for have another threesome with Vriska,' and you were so upset you had this look on your face like I just killed your beloved dog?"

John narrowed his eyes. "Yessssssss...?"

Dirk took a deep breath. "If Dave resurrects me, I am willing to rescind my vow."

John stared blankly at Dirk. Slowly, he turned towards Dave, and said, in perfect monotone, "Dave. You have to resurrect Dirk."

"WHAT!?" Dave shouted, hurling his head back and posing in a way weirdly reminiscent of Karkat’s tantrums. "Dude, no!? No! In the five thousand, two hundred, and thirty six years of my short existence, I can count on one hand the number of times I let shit slide and brought a pirate back. And they all had grandiose quests or prophesies to fulfill or what the hell ever! I like DStri here and all, but the threads of fate that English isn't blocking _don't_ lead to anything cool."

"He does have a grandiose quest!" whined John. "He's destined for my dong!"

Dave resumed his flatline deadpan. "Your dong is the least grandiose thing in existence."

“If it helps any,” said Dirk, carefully. “I am trying to find your sister and help you guys. Is that grandiose enough?”

“It is soooooooo grandiose! Please, Dave! Pleeeeaassseeeeeee,” said John, clasping his hands together and making a big droopy pouty face for Dave.

“No means no, dude.”

Wow, John wasn’t much help at all. Dirk tried to add to his case. “What if I said Jade came to me in a dream, and told me to accompany Jake?”

“I’d say you’re bullshitting.”

“She’s got big round glasses,” said Dirk, quickly, praying the dream he had wasn’t a hallucination of his dying mind. “Long black hair. Looks like Jake: same skin tone, same eyes, same funky teeth. But no piercings or beauty marks or anything. Talks like a melody, really excitable, seems fun.”

That gave them pause. John’s goofy pouting collapsed into a serious, analytical gaze Dirk hadn’t seen before. Dave was unreadable. Guess it wasn’t a hallucination, then. It was a good thing Dirk was nice to her. Did that mean he met all four Kings? That’s cool as hell, he’s certainly the only pirate to have done that in at least five hundred years.

John turned back towards Dave. “Okay, you should definitely bring Dirk back because of _that,_ but if you still don’t want to, I’m totally going to start playing your emo death fortress like a panflute. I bet all that wind against the bajillion hidey holes you have in the cliffs is gonna sound _awesome.”_

Dave grit his teeth. He slapped his hands against his face, performing a dramatic double facepalm. John beamed, victorious.

“Alright!” Dave hissed, contorting like Karkat again. “Alright, fine, fuck it, you win. Dirk’s coming back, we’re sending them back to TZ’s place, what the _fuck_ ever, I don’t care. Swear yourself to secrecy, don’t tell fucking _anyone_ that you died or I pulled a favor. Or you’re going to die of a random heart attack faster than you can say ‘clogged arteries.’”

Dirk nodded enthusiastically, and bowed deeply towards the Dead King. When he straightened back up, he took a moment to celebrate, quietly pumping his fist and hissing out a silent ‘yes.’ He tripped ass-backwards into death, and by the gods, he tripped ass-backwards out of it. Jake was smiling, in a proud way. John looked _very_ happy. 

Dave cracked his knuckles, and stretched his shoulders out, like he was about to do some heavy exercise. 

"While I'm at it, I'll remove the quote-unquote 'curse' Jake slapped on your soul. No more ‘bad luck’ for you, unless you fuck him again," said Dave. He leaned in, close, so close the beak of his hat prodded Dirk in the head. With the most serious, stern tone Dirk had heard on him yet, Dave commanded, “Don't fuck him again.”

"Yes sir," said Dirk, a droplet of sweat beading on the back of his neck.

The Dead King did not back away. He was too close. “Ready?”

Dirk’s mouth twitched. Dave held his pointer finger up between their faces. With a gentle, loving tap, Dave poked Dirk’s nose and said, “Boop.”

Dirk fell backwards, into the dark.


	11. Roll The Ol' Diamond Ship Along

He opened his eyes in the starless ocean. Jake floated naked next to him, sleeping like the dead. Dirk stared up at the moon filled sky for a while, listening to the water rush against his ears, enjoying the calm interlude between life and death. When he was ready, he tread water, looking for Jade, the light of the gigantic moon reflecting against the mirror-flat sea. 

She popped her head above the water, just like before. She glided through the black ripples to beam at Dirk. He smiled back. So this really was the Star King, huh? She seemed a lot like John, like she appreciated the kind of jokes that involved a wink and an elbow nudge.

“Does my mystical spirit guide have anything cool to tell me?” teased Dirk.

"Nothing much," she said, and her smile faltered. Just for an instant. "I guess I'm here because I’m a little lonely!"

Dirk stared at her, unsure. Jade bit her lip, her teeth were _exactly_ the same as Jake's. "I know we're like, super dream-naked, and in the water, and the logistics are pretty weird and stuff, but can I have a hug?"

She was right, it _was_ pretty weird. But who was he to turn down a King? "Sure."

She swam to him. With complete unabashedness, she threw her arms around his shoulders, pressed her cheek to his, and pushed their bare torsos tight together. Dirk had the feeling she'd have made some really awkward contact below the belt if they didn't need room to kick their legs. He looped his arms around her waist, hover-handing.

She yanked her glasses off and threw them into the water; they sunk into the deep with a satisfying plunk. She buried her face in Dirk's collarbone, desperate, breathing like she was sobbing. His awkwardness eased when he realized this wasn't sexual-- the Star King really just wanted a simple fucking hug. He stopped hover-handing, and embraced her firm around her back and waist.

Still, it was kind of unfortunate getting all buddy-buddy in the nude with someone he didn't know. He asked a question to avoid thinking about it. "Does Jake really have your powers?"

"Yes!" said Jade, not bothering to unstick her face from Dirk's shoulder. "Well, 50% of them... The 50% you are currently talking to, that is!"

"Wait," said Dirk, and dropped his hug. "You're not, like, inside him, watching, or anything, are you?"

Jade pulled away and giggled. Entirely beyond his control, Dirk's face crumpled into the picture of disgust. Jade rolled her eyes. "Oh, shhhh, I'm a pseudo-omnipresent immortal god king, I'm the chillest and non-judgiest person ever! Besides, it's not like I'm the only third party tagging along for the ride, Rose is here too! But not enough of her to give her a big hug..."

Dirk dragged a wet hand down his face, utterly ashamed of himself. "Don't remind me."

"Well don't bang him again and you don't have to worry!"

"Yeah, uh, about that. The bad luck fuck. That _can't_ be under your jurisdiction. What is that?"

"It certainly _is_ under my jurisdiction! You're just a little confused ‘cuz I’ve been stolen away for five whole centuries! But that’s okay, I’ll explain what I do for you!"

Jade kicked out, swam backwards just a little. It gave her room to gesture. She lifted her hands above the water, and spread them out in a rainbow motion. A miniature map of the nighttime hemisphere burst into existence between her thumbs. It glinted, the little starlights reflecting in the sea.

“What do pirates value most about the stars?” she asked.

“They guide us.”

“Correct!” said Jade, and white lines appeared along the map, creating a chart, a route. “And I am the King of guiding all my pirate friends! See, I am not just King of the Stars! I am the King of a clear, perfectly drawn line on a map. I am the King of super accurate compasses. The King of the crazy math that goes into your voyage. The King of pointing you towards your correct destination. The calculations that go into how you rig your ship. The perfect spyglass. The clearest phase of the moon. The best night for plundering.”

Dirk was aware of this, from all the songs and lore. He nodded along. 

“But! If somebody makes me mad… Or hurts my dear pirates…” said Jade, leaning forward like she was telling a spooky story. “… I can do the reverse!”

The lines on the astronomy chart redrew themselves. Dirk wasn’t, say, Sollux-levels of mathematician, but he was good enough to recognize that the guidance lines Jade drew didn’t make a lot of sense. To a layman it might appear correct, but not to an experienced sailor. 

Jade smiled, almost villain-like, at the image she created. “Just like clouds hiding the stars, I can hide your best path, and force you to take the worst possible route.”

“So that’s what Jake’s doing when he fucks people,” mused Dirk. “Except instead of messing with a boat trying to sail the seas it’s like, messing with your real life.”

“Yup!”

Dirk frowned. “And that’s a power of yours. Not a curse. So Jake is… consciously choosing to apply this ‘route blocking’ shit to people?”

“Oh, no! Not consciously. You see… Jake is _terrible_ at controlling my powers!” Jade dropped her hands, and the stars vanished. She reached out, grabbed Dirk by the shoulders, and shook him a little to emphasize her point. “Terrible! Absolutely horrible at it! He can do like, one thing, and it’s my dumb compass pointer thing. And he can kind of teleport, sometimes, if he focuses really hard. But all the other stuff: guiding himself and the immediate area around him, blocking off Dave’s futures, giving you bad luck… that’s all accidental! 100% managed by his subconscious!”

So, Jake is… literally a god. A really shitty, terrible god at half-power, apparently. Great. Fantastic. This was such a dramatic revelation that it wrapped around ten times and Dirk felt absolutely nothing. He was at least a little relieved that this finally explained why Jake can’t die— the Kings can’t fucking die. 

“Why’s the bad shit come out only during sex, then?”

Jade’s exaggerated expressions vanished. She let go of Dirk, and tread water in silence. She looked at him, quiet, and spoke with a sad, mournful voice.

"Because Jake's got a lot of complicated feelings about his body, and the people who use it," said Jade.

Dirk felt his heart sink into the ocean. A prostitute who gained powers that allowed him to doom anyone in existence, and his subconscious mind chose to only apply them to those who got intimate with him. That did _not_ bode well.

“And I know you’re probably like, ‘oh, but he really likes doing all sorts of sexual things, why would he curse somebody he consented to?’ and that’s a good question,” Jade continued, frowning. "But it’s complicated. I think he hates how nobody ever sees the real him, that everybody just wants to make love to a handsome face and not the person beneath. But at the same time, he's addicted to how good he feels, how people are in _awe_ of him! And I think he's scared that the real him, the real Jake inside all that, won't compete with the pretty boy on the outside. He hates that. He doesn’t know what to do."

Although the water was warm, Dirk felt a chill roll up his spine. "How do you know that? Can you read his mind?"

"No, I'm just a really good guesser!" said Jade, tapping her head. "I catch all the little physical details other people might miss. Like he obsesses over his body a lot, not with eating or exercising or whatever, more like 'oh I should open my mouth like this so I look better,' or 'I need to show off my butt more' or 'I need to adjust, he has a bad angle of me...'"

And Dirk played right into that, didn't he? Getting all distracted by the gorgeous body and the lovemaking skills and getting really fucking annoyed with any semblance of personality Jake showed. Jake must really hate himself, and no wonder, with a life that was probably full of people like Dirk only getting to know Jake through his body. It made Dirk's heart ache.

"That..." said Dirk, trying to figure out how to define his feelings about it in a succinct way. "... fucking sucks."

Nailed it. Jade giggled. "Sure does."

"Can I fix him, somehow?"

Jade beamed. "I like you a lot, Dirk! Sometimes I think of helping people as 'fixing them' too, making them do the right thing when they're so obviously hurting themselves! But I know I'm not thinking about it correctly. You can't fix him, because he doesn't really want to be fixed quite yet-- instead, you have to save him!"

"Saving," Dirk repeated, carefully. "What can I do to save him?"

Jade smiled. "I think a two month journey with a bunch of loveable pirate friends will do the trick, don't you?"

Jade swam forward. She took hold of Dirk's wrists beneath the sea, and held them gently as they tread water. She leaned forward, and pressed her forehead to his. She was warm. He shut his eyes.

"My body, and the other half of me, is asleep in Jake's kingdom. Jake knows where to go. Come find me."

"I'll go to hell and back for you, my king."

"Now wake up," said Jade, softly. "I can't wait to meet you for real."

He woke up floating in a different ocean, this one with stars and gentle waves, the air saturated with the smell of dead fish and old seaweed. He squinted at the sky, recognizing the phase of the moon, how much time had passed. It had probably only been a couple days since he was taken by the Sea King.

He flipped himself upright. The Dead King dumped them off in the ocean behind the Velvet Court, where the Sea King took them away initially. The Pirate Queen's lighthouse shone bright in the deep, dense night, a short swim away. Dirk still wore his white kimono, and it hung on him ridiculously heavy in the water. Normally, he would have discarded it for mobility, but he wanted to keep it as a souvenir. Besides, the lighthouse wasn't too far away.

It felt nice, to be home again. Dirk smiled to himself, happy to feel the warm wind on his skin. The quiet moment of fond self-reflection was interrupted by Jake splashing violently next to him. Dirk tread water, watched Jake wheeze and perform a bunch of ridiculous underwater somersaults, his wet petticoats flopping _everywhere._

"What the fuck are you doing," stated Dirk. Jake flailed around some more, then dipped beneath the water. He did not come back up. It took Dirk way too long to remember that Jake couldn't swim. 

"Goddammit, shit," hissed Dirk, and he dived underwater. His eyes stung as he looked around for Jake, but they adjusted quickly to the salt. The water was too fuckin’ dark to see anything; he only had the vaguest idea where Jake sank. He waved his arms around in the area where Jake was, but didn't feel anything.

Fear arose in his throat. He should have grabbed Jake instead of staring at him like a dumbass. Would he have to wait for Jake to die and his corpse to float to the surface?

A guiding silver light appeared beneath him in the dark. It flickered, like someone reflecting the sun off a mirror, and Dirk realized it was in the shape of an arrow. It lit up Jake's face, his hands clasped tight over his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut, his legs kicking around and propelling him in the wrong direction. Yeah, there was no fucking way Jake was doing this consciously: the guy was clearly out of his mind with panic.

Dirk swiftly dived, took hold of Jake's waist, and kicked them both to the surface. The light disappeared when Jake opened his eyes above the water, hyperventilating like he hadn't had a breath of air in two whole minutes.

"Shit, dude, I'm sorry," said Dirk, pulling Jake towards him. Jake clung onto his arms with a death grip, gasping and scared. "I forgot you couldn't swim. Here, I'll keep you safe, hold onto my back."

Jake didn't want to let go of Dirk for a single moment, so it took a lot of coaxing to get him in the right position. They ended with Jake pressed to Dirk's back, his arms thrown around Dirk's neck and shoulders. Jake floated a little like that, which helped. Dirk swore his wet petticoats were heavier than his skinny body.

Dirk couldn't swim efficiently with all the added weight, so it took a while to doggy paddle to the Velvet Court coast. Jake calmed himself when he realized Dirk was in no danger of drowning or tipping Jake back into the sea, and by the time they reached the rocky shore, he was perfectly unafraid.

Dirk felt his way along the black cliff, looking for a safe place to pull himself up. He had Jake cling onto the rock, and he hoisted himself up first. He crouched, dripping water all over the shore, and extended his arms to pull up Jake. He picked Jake up like a hug, stood up, and set him down on his feet, very gently.

"Careful," said Dirk, remembering that Jake never wore any goddamn shoes. "The rock's sharp."

Jake glanced down. He put his glasses back on, and frowned at the sight of Dirk's bare feet, visible in the light from the bonfire atop the lighthouse. Dirk left his socks and sandals back on the Isle. Which, bummer, those were nice sandals, he would have taken them up the cliff if he knew he got to keep them. "Same to you, friendo," said Jake.

"I'm a tough, bloodthirsty, extra-calloused pirate. I’m fine."

They were both soaking wet and wearing white. The illumination from the lighthouse was enough to see how Jake’s skirts clung to his legs, his thighs, the curve of his soft dick. Dirk could see the glint of the gold piercings through the fabric.

It felt _horrible_ ogling him after what Jade told Dirk. Disgust rose up in his chest, at himself for objectifying Jake and being so fucking horny he apparently still lusted enough to want to fuck someone who would hands-down give him an insta-kill STI. Dirk tore his eyes away. Jake didn’t notice, he appeared to be having a staring contest with Rambo through the fabric of Dirk’s kimono.

“Dirk,” said Jake, softly. His long lashes raised, he peered honest and vulnerable at Dirk with those big green eyes. “I want to say something to you, while we have a moment alone...”

Dirk waited. The water shifted against the shore, a lovely rhythmic sound in the night. Beyond the lighthouse, he heard the distant noises of Velvet Court revelry. It made him feel like this moment was all the more private.

“I'm sorry I tried to kill you. And I'm sorry I cursed you and inadvertently led to your death and accidentally forced you to go on this little jaunt with me,” muttered Jake, staring down at his feet like this was a really difficult thing for him to do. “No matter what happens, even if your scary red eyed pirate queen tries to lock me away, I… wont try to seduce you again. That would be very cruel and evil and selfish of me, wouldn’t it? And I am certainly not any of those things.”

"Apology accepted," said Dirk, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't expect you to say sorry, dude. What happened to me being an evil badass pirate who deserves what's coming to him?"

"Well... Even though I did all those bad things to you, and even though I was hemming and hawing an awful lot because I was nervous and that was probably annoying to someone as smart and physically fit as you... you were nothing but kind and courteous to me. You made threats, certainly, but they all turned out to be goofy joshing around. You gave me a piggy-back up a cliff, for fucks' sake," said Jake, glaring at the ground. He was speaking far slower than normal, like he was having a hard time coming up with the right words to say. "And while I may be heads over heels above you in the promiscuity skillset, you seem to be better than me at literally everything else! And with your vast prowess, you could have freely hurt me, or beat me, or harassed me, or taken advantage of my body... And you didn't. Maybe you're a lot closer to the swashbuckling pirate with a heart of gold than I thought."

Dirk was immensely bummed he lost the evil-badass-mystique in Jake's eyes. Jake still thought he was cool though, which was flattering. He extended a hand towards Jake, allowed himself to smile, and said, "At least tell me the tattoos still scare the shit out of you."

Jake took Dirk's hand, and returned the smile. "Actually, they're starting to grow on me!"

Dirk plucked Jake into his arms and carried him bridal style to the lighthouse, so Jake wouldn't have to hurt his feet on the sharp black rock. Dirk wasn’t lying, he was indeed one calloused motherfucker, so the uphill hike didn't hurt too much. Besides, Jake was elated, nestling against Dirk's shoulders and grinning the whole ride.

The secret door at the back of the lighthouse was impossible to find in the dark. It was near-impossible during the daytime, but with the base of the lighthouse plunged in deep shadow, Dirk had no idea where the edges of the frame were. After wandering around for a few minutes, having Jake knock on the walls in the vague area where Dirk remembered it being and having no luck, the door opened on its own.

They were only a couple feet away from it. Dirk carried Jake over, and found Eridan standing in the doorway. He was in a purple silk robe, his hair wrapped up in a towel, and he had a green mudmask on. He glowered at Dirk. Dirk glowered back. Jake looked uncomfortable.

“This is why you made me stay up,” said Eridan, twisting around towards the inside of the candlelit lighthouse. They rehung the chandelier; it looked undamaged. “So I could let these fuckin’ plebs drip water over our plush carpet?”

“Yes! Have them drip upstairs and pick something nice to wear!” called Terezi. “A little birdie told me English will be going on a long journey in short order, so make sure to get some ship-shape clothing for him! None of that man of the night bustle crap.”

Eridan stared up towards the stars, as though praying to the Kings for patience. “I am above this.”

“And shoot English on sight if he tries anything that smells funny!”

Eridan smiled to himself. He opened his arms in a welcoming gesture, and stepped aside. “Nevermind. Come in.”

Inside, Terezi was sitting in the middle of an excessive pile of pillows and plushies, with a cozy robe and giant dragon-shaped slippers on. She was doodling one of her _truly incredible_ comics, wiggling her feet happily as she crayoned on color after color. She did not turn around, but waved hello in Dirk and Jake’s general direction. Jake waved back, then looked embarrassed when he remembered she was blind.

A crow was perched on the art board in her lap. Dirk gave it a nod. It nodded back. 

Dirk carried Jake up the stairs, because it was fun and Jake was enjoying it, but set him down once they were on the upper storage level of the lighthouse to dry off and try on outfits. Terezi hoarded a shit ton of the best loot for some reason, probably ‘cuz she wanted to pick up the habits of the dragons she so loved. There was an awful lot of selection to choose from in all the trunks and closets, and Jake immediately gravitated towards the ‘sluttier’ options: skirts with the hips accentuated, shirts he could open _all the way down,_ and shorts that were so short they provided an excellent view of his taint. 

Great for a prostitute, not great for a two month sea journey to go rescue the Star King. Dirk didn’t know how to tell him not to wear this kind of shit when he was so keen on it and _really_ didn’t want to try anything different. Dirk tried to argue that it was hard to do nautical work in Jake’s preferred clothing, but Jake argued he didn’t know how to do anything nautical anyway. And Dirk didn’t want to pressure Jake due to the whole bizarro self-confidence issues Jade informed him of.

Eridan proved to be an unexpected help, once he got his mudmask off and watched the festivities with a cup of tea and his harpoon gun. The dude was real into fashion, apparently, and asked what Jake liked about the clothes he wanted —”It’s easy access, I look bang-up fantastic, and my legs are free!”— and picked out something more appropriate based on that criteria. Jake ended up with a couple cute women’s cheongsam patterned with gothic shit like skulls and crows, pairs of poofy white pants for underneath, and a pair of slip-on leather booties that fit surprisingly well; didn’t need an extra trip to the cobbler to fix ‘em up. Jake was disappointed he couldn’t wear his bustled skirts any more, but he seemed pleased enough with the new getup.

For himself, Dirk picked out the plainest pirate-y shirt/pants/boots combo he could. He preferred his own clothing, and he had more sets of kimono and hakama on the _Black Diamond._ He didn’t want to waste Terezi’s stash.

When they descended the stairs, Jake’s new clothes in tow, Terezi finished her comic. The Dead King’s crow was gone. Terezi waved the piece of paper around like a handkerchief, from her cushion throne, and Dirk took it. He couldn’t read a word of it. It was all in Vriska and Terezi’s first language, a language he was actively trying _not_ to learn just to spite Vriska. But that didn’t make it any less awesome. 

It appeared to be a pictorial summation of the events that led up to this point— Dirk and Jake talking to the Sea King, going to the Isle, talking to the Dead King, something about John… It was drawn so terribly and so blindingly colorful it was neck and neck with Dave’s diorama in a competition of sheer shittiness. Dirk nearly shed a tear. 

“Give this to Vriska! It explains everything, and you are to squeeze the relevant info from Mr. Lime Juice here and leave as soon as possible!” said Terezi, grinning like she always did when she had a great plan brewing. “This is top priority! No marauding or pilfering while you're on this mission! You go straight to Jake’s kingdom, get the Star King, and bring her right back here so I can finally complete the sacred ritual orgy with all four Kings and fully claim my title as Queen!”

"Ritual orgy?" Jake stammered. Dirk could almost see the literal gears churning in his brain as to how Terezi would go about having sex with the Sea King.

"That was a joke, Jake. I think," said Dirk. "Anyway, Vriska will agree, she'll love the fame that rescuing the Star King will get her."

"Well, keep her in line if she doesn't! Now godspeed!"

The crew was, of course, at _Starlight’s End._ A short boat ride and a couple IOUs to the gondolier later, they arrived at the ground floor of the tavern. It was so late that there wasn’t much raucous pub activity; just a lot of small groups chatting in various corners of the room. The only members of the _Black Diamond_ crew still awake appeared to be Vriska, Roxy, and Karkat, who were all playing cards at a long table in the middle. 

Nobody else was nearby, Vriska probably scared ‘em away. Instead of sitting on the bench like a normal person, she was laying on top of the table between Roxy and Karkat. Due to the angle, Karkat saw Dirk and Jake first.

“Fuck me!” screamed Karkat. Roxy and Vriska twisted around to see what Karkat was looking at. “You’re both alive!?”

“HAAAAAA!” Roxy bellowed, jumping up and throwing her arms in the air. Cards flew everywhere. She pointed at Karkat, victoriously. “You owe me five quid!”

Dirk smiled, despite himself, and waved at the two as he and Jake approached them. Vriska turned herself so her head was propped on one arm and her leg was half-up in the air. Like she was some sexy bar dancer posing on top of a harpsichord.

“Well, well, well, look who comes craaaaaaaawling back from... Uh...” Vriska looked away quickly, and glared at her cards. She winced, like she was about to get hit, and sat up. Her legs dangled over the edge of the table. She opened her arms for a hug. "Ugh, you know what? I can't do this. C'mere you tattooed piece of shit."

Dirk laughed, feeling like he won some kind of battle, and went in for the hug. He hoisted her up with one arm around her waist and lifted her. Vriska was even easier to pick up than Jake; she weighed as much as ten large potatoes, and was almost the same size as the sack holding them.

He hugged her, her feet dangling near his shins, her arms around his shoulders. "I'm... glad you're alive, Strider," she muttered in his ear, so that nobody else could hear.

She leaned back, bracing herself on his arms, looking a little vulnerable. Dirk shot her an ironic grin. "You're going to regret that statement when I tell you what I promised we'd do with John."

Vriska’s vulnerability collapsed into a deadpan glare. He set her back on the table, where she sat crosslegged, and Jake and Dirk took seats across from each other next to Karkat and Roxy.

He gave her the missive, and Vriska translated the series of events Terezi scrawled down. It was clearly written from the POV of Dave played through a weird crow-telephone game, since it missed out or messed up some particular details, and instead of saying ‘Dirk died’ it said ‘the Sea King brought him to the Isle.’ After answering a couple of Roxy’s excited questions about the Isle, and answering some of Karkat’s about the Dead King, and Jake confusedly confirming Vriska’s accusations of “You!? A friggin’ _god!?_ Yeah right!” they were ready to talk about what to do with the Star King.

A demand from Vriska to tell her _everything_ resulted in Jake muttering, “I’d really prefer it if Mister Sir Wind King were here…”

“I’m here!” John called, from all the way across the room. The crew all turned to watch him push himself out of a very drunk group of pirates and trot over to them. It was always weird to see John walking, but it was even weirder to see him in normal clothes. He was wearing something similar to when Vriska and Dirk met him, this raggedy dusty blue getup that had a billion layers, a ratty hat, and made him look like he was the captain of a ghost ship. He called it his ‘hobo disguise.’

He sat down, happily, next to Jake, and patted his thigh. Jake seemed weirded out by the friendly gesture. “Ready to tell me where my sister is?” said John, kindly.

Jake took a deep breath. It took him a little while to speak. “So, yup, just baring it all out there I suppose, exposing all my sensitive bits to the world. Um. I’m the prince of a kingdom which, five hundred years ago, found out about your Kings and the at-the-time itty bitty group of pirates who worshiped them, and decided to kidnap your Star King in order to force her to take our lands ‘off the map,’ so it were. She’s been maintaining this navigation barrier for most of the recorded history of my homeland.”

Dirk had no idea how to react to this. Roxy had her lip curled up like Jake just vomited all over her shoes. Karkat looked like he was about to cry, like he was severely empathizing with whatever the Star King had to go through for five hundred years. John’s smile vanished, and he stared at Jake with a barely constrained horror. Vriska was the first to recover.

“Excuse me!? What!?” shouted Vriska, leaning forward on her knees.

“My family’s been holding the poor dear hostage for centuries to keep us hidden from the slowly globalizing world. But we’ve recently figured out how to transfer her abilities to a genetically applicable candidate within the noble bloodline,” Jake rambled, unable to look at any of them. “Um, that’s me, by the by. But I only received roughly half of her, as a fun little test to see if I could handle it, which I of course failed…”

Dirk had a horrifying thought. “Wait, dude, you’re not in charge of this… kingdom, are you?”

"No siree, that’d be my mother," said Jake, biting his lip and staring down at his feet. "Her Imperious Condescension."

There was a moment of silence, as the gravity of the situation settled around them.

It was broken by Vriska, who seemed woefully unimpressed by the whole thing. She scoffed and folded her arms. "What kind of _fucking_ title is 'Imperious Condescension'? Like, oh, yeah, I rule by having a bad attitude and looking down on my subjects! What a lame name!"

"Um, perhaps I translated that a little wrong..." said Jake, quiet and unsure.

Everything hit John all at once, shattering his disposition like an icebreaker boat. He clapped his hands to his cheeks, looking like an utter caricature of panic. "Oh no, oh no, I have to go get Jade _right now!_ Oh jeez, she must be so sad and alone! Jake, you have to tell me where your kingdom is! What's the name of it!? What's it near!? I have to find her!"

"Hold your horses, sir!" said Jake, holding his hands out like John was about to fly away and Jake was the only one who could keep him anchored. "There is one giganto mongo problem with specifically you-yourself going to re-kidnap the Star King by your lonesome!"

John blinked at him. Jake shifted, to sit on his own hands, then continued. He looked more confident, leaning forward and adding a cadence like he was telling a dramatic story. "My dear sister, whomst you've met, is on the hunt for more Kings. Since our first experiment failed so tragically, she figured we should try the transfer again with another King and another noble-- herself. It would be best if you did not march right up to her home base and announce yourself!"

Fair point. Explained why her rich ass was stomping around the Velvet Court and asking for the Pirate Queen. Dirk was very thankful Terezi lied to her, about how to find the Kings. John frowned, and looked to Vriska for help.

"It's fine, John! You can pretend you're a perfectly average human guy in our crew when we raid the place," said Vriska. She leaned back on her arm, and waved her stump around. "Although man, it looks like this is going to have to be a stealth mission. We can't just knock on the front door like, 'hey Condy, we want our god back, thanks.'"

Jake mouthed the word 'Condy' to himself, a little horrified, before snapping out of it. "Actually, I think you can knock right on my front door if you mask the truth a bit! Perhaps pretend you are a softhearted bunch of pirates who captured an errant prince, and are returning him to the home he ran away from in order to reap a grand reward?"

Roxy voiced everyone's suspicion with a quiet, venom-tongued, "You're willing to do that...?"

"Yes of course! Since none of your Kings were able to clear up this plague upon my existence, I suppose I will have to try what the Dead King suggested: giving them back to Jade herself. Although I am not sure how to do that. The poor sweetheart is in a deep deep sleep..."

None of them fully trusted Jake… except John, apparently, who was nodding along enthusiastically. Karkat was glowering at Jake. Roxy had her eyes narrowed like she was solving a hardcore chemistry equation. Vriska had her lips pursed, trying to figure out what to do with him. He beamed. 

"Now I am not doing all this for kicks and grins. In exchange for guiding you to your King and me giving her back all her powers, I want all of you to promise to keep me safe, and take me away to a nice quiet peaceful country where I can have a little house in a field and have lots exciting adventures on my own with no scary mean shitlords involved ever again. Besides, I need protection! I will be on my sister's naughty list if she ever finds out I helped pull off an exciting heist! And that's damn terrifying."

Dirk wondered how much of Jake's revelations were lies. He noticed Jake was sitting on his hands: either he was lying through his teeth and trying to hide the shakes, only one part of it was a lie but it was enough to make him tremble, or he was just plain nervous. Problem was, the only thing that seemed suspicious was why Jake was being so _helpful_ all of a sudden. Dirk couldn't pick out which parts were made up. It was all equally ridiculous. 

And what if none of it was false? What if Jake really felt like he was out of options? That he wanted to get rid of the Star King's powers _so badly_ he'd return to his homeland he'd run from, in an attempt to ditch his 'curse?' It was a likely possibility that he’d do anything to remove the curse on his dick, considering his self worth depended so heavily on sex.

Dirk would talk to everybody present about it later. Roxy was fabulous at picking out lies, while Vriska and Karkat were good at totally falling for them but bludgeoning through it nonetheless. Dirk had a feeling that, even if Jake was acting with malicious intent, they'd follow his instructions anyway. This was their only lead.

Roxy folded her hands beneath her chin, and said, deceptively sweet, “Say, why’d you run away from home, Jake-y boy?”

Jake’s confidence faltered. He looked down at the table. He lifted his hands finally, and laced his fingers together tight in an imitation of Roxy’s pose. 

“I just… I dunno… I felt useless,” said Jake, quietly. “I didn’t want to keep the powers, but I didn’t know how to get rid of them either, so I thought I’d search for the other pirate gods to find the answers. I snuck aboard one of my sister’s many hunting ships. But uh, all these horrible map-related-mess-up vibes I give off threw the whole ship off course…”

Assuming that was true, it must have meant Jake was pretty fucking stressed out. All his powers are subconscious, and even though he was afraid of Dirk and ‘bored’ on the _Black Diamond,_ they didn’t have any problems with navigation. Sans Vriska and Sollux being unable to chart the course of Jane’s ship.

“It didn’t help that I got discovered a month in,” he continued. "After some quick thinking, I engaged in some sexual decadence with the four soldiers who found me! They were certainly content to keep me as their private little escort after that, but alas, I couldn't keep them wrangled nearby to prevent their untimely doom. I really did not mean to blow up that boat..."

What the fuck did he think was going to happen? Gods. Jake really needed a get out of jail free card that wasn't fucking someone into mental submission.

"Holy shit, four? At the same time?" mumbled Karkat, who looked like he was having some kind of PTSD flashback. Jake did not answer the question.

“So why’d anybody even bother with giving _you_ this Star King crap, since you’re so friggin’ incompetent at everything?” asked Vriska, who was still not impressed with any of this. “Why didn’t your sister get them? She’s clearly waaaaaaaay more on top of her shit than you are.”

"Oh, I caught the clap, so I had to take them," said Jake, matter-of-factly. "Insta-healy god powers cleaned me up slick as a whistle!"

Karkat squinted at Jake, like he couldn't believe what he just heard. "Fucking really? Couldn’t you have just waited for it to clear up, dumbass?"

Jake shook his head, serious. "It wasn’t up to me. My work is very important."

Further questions led to Jake deflecting, and were sort of inane nitpicky queries anyway, so everybody decided to call it a night. Dirk was not tired _at all._ In fact, he felt more well rested than he’d been in a long time. He and Jake stayed up, drank ale, ate bar snacks, and played cards in the tavern all night. Jake taught him a couple new two player games that were pretty fun. In exchange, Dirk taught Jake some pub songs and shanties, but Jake just spoken-word repeated them, insistent that his accent made him a bad singer.

It took a week to get their ship restocked and ready to sail. Jake had no idea how long his journey home would be, so Dirk was banking off what the Star King told him: two months. They stocked up for five. Two there, two back, and one for the pot.

Dirk would have liked to stay longer at the Velvet Court, to mingle among his people, catch up with some pirates he liked and/or hated, start some bar fights... But it was all about the accounting and managing and supplying and loading, and making sure Jake didn't try to run for it. He didn't. They gave him the same job he had on the _Black Diamond:_ carrying random shit back and forth. He could surprisingly heft a lot more weight now that he had a pair of shoes, but Dirk noted he was always carrying crates and boxes wrong. Dude lifted with his slightly bulkier upper body instead of his thighs and core. Jake clearly kept skipping leg day.

They all slept in one of the communal rooms in the tavern, so the only time Dirk had to himself were a couple trips to the bathhouse and a night alone with John. And while John was an attractive ageless god with infinite amounts of sexual experience and wind powers that allowed for some funky-fresh positioning, he lacked the intimacy and connection of a human. Dirk thought about Jake the _entire fucking time._ And that was a problem.

But he kept his dick in his pants and made it a week without boning Jake. The constant, cock blocking presence of his friends probably did the trick. And Vriska's threat of "If you fuck him again, I will shoot you in the head, tie him to your corpse, and throw you both in the ocean," was a strong motivator. He could totally make it another two months. This was fine. It was totally fine. He really could do this. Really. It'd be fine.

It came time for them to leave port, early morning, the wind in their favor. The sun peeked just above the horizon, the sky misty and a cool light blue. It smelled like adventure.

The deck of the _Black Diamond_ bustled with activity as everyone took positions, to do final inspections and attach the sails. After Dirk counted the appropriate amount of heads --one time they forgot Sollux after an all night drinking binge-- he gave the clear to take in the lines and raise the sails.

Since Jake was just standing around looking pretty, Dirk asked if he wanted to be shantyman. All he had to do was sing one of the easy songs Dirk taught him at the pub, the kind with a one-line chorus and then you just bullshit the verses.

"I can't sing," Jake stuttered in reply, almost as frightened as he had been when the Sea King took him away.

"None of us can sing!" chirped Roxy, from her spot midships. She was checking the peak line for the mainsail on the boom. "Pay no attention to Aradia and Vriska. They're basically like, shanty superstars, while the rest of us put the off in off-key."

"What are you talking about!?" hollered Vriska, from the bow. She was looking at charts with Sollux. "I'm on team bitch boy with this one, I can't sing either and I'm never gonna!"

"Oh sorry, I forgot, with all your incredible vocal work and all," Roxy hollered back, laughing. She beamed at Jake, then gestured for a few crew members to help hoist the throat line. "Do it Jake! Sing your lil' heart out."

Jake started breathing faster. "I might forget the words, and I don't have a good sense of rhythm, and I-"

Nevermind. Bad idea. Dirk shouldn't have brought it up. He raised an eyebrow. "It's cool dude, no pressure. You don't have to. Karkat'd probably fuckin’ fight you for it anyway."

From his spot at the peak halyard, Karkat flipped Dirk off. Dirk returned the gesture, then said to Jake. "Go do your compass thing for Vriska and Sollux, 'kay?"

Jake stood there for a moment, like he was frozen between a fight or flight response. Dirk didn't know why; maybe 'cuz Jake expected Dirk to force him to sing? Jake eventually nodded, relieved he didn't have to belt out a tune, and scampered to the bow.

Dirk took position at the very back of the throat halyard, with Nepeta in front of him, as per usual. Equius, in the back of the peak halyard, gave a thumbs up to Karkat once everyone was in position. Karkat coughed, like he was opening for a fine orchestra concert, and belted out the first verse. Everyone repeated it, and pulled on the ropes.

_to the tune of Roll The Old Chariot Along_

[[youtube only](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20n3N1uhztc)] [[alt youtube link](https://youtu.be/49FWp7WLYKw?t=24)]

* * *

Oh, we’ll be alright, if John blows the wind northeast  
We’ll be alright, if John blows the wind northeast  
We’ll be alright, if John blows the wind northeast  
And we'll all hang on behind

_(Chorus)_  
_And we'll roll the ol’ Diamond ship along_  
_We'll roll the ol’ Diamond ship along_  
_We'll roll the ol’ Diamond ship along_  
_And we'll all hang on behind_

Oh, we’ll be alright if Jake doesn’t slam Dirk’s ass  
We’ll be alright if Jake doesn’t slam Dirk’s ass  
We’ll be alright if Jake doesn’t slam Dirk’s ass  
And we'll all hang on behind

_(Chorus)_

Oh, a drop of Vriska’s rum wouldn’t do us any harm  
Oh, a drop of Vriska’s rum wouldn’t do us any harm  
Oh, a drop of Vriska’s rum wouldn’t do us any harm  
And we'll all hang on behind

_(Chorus)_

Oh, a bowl of Roxy’s stew wouldn't do us any harm  
Oh, a bowl of Roxy’s stew wouldn't do us any harm  
Oh, a bowl of Roxy’s stew wouldn't do us any harm  
And we'll all hang on behind

_(Chorus)_

_(Chorus)_

| 

With the small crew, they couldn't raise all the sails at once, so they always started with the mainsail. It was a lot of rhythmic hauling, singing, and stepping, making sure everyone was working as a team. The only time they ever had problems with this was when they were hungover as shit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dirk watched Jake stand over Sollux's maps. He drew his arms in an arc, finger-painted some elaborate symbols in the air, and the shining compass appeared before him. He chanted some words Dirk couldn’t pick out over the song, but he finally recognized the second voice Jake spoke with: it was Jade’s.

Dirk hadn’t ever seen what Jake actually did with the compass. It spun ‘round and ‘round, the needle trying to find its destination. It tilted flat, like someone laid it on a table, and a silver beam shot out bright and strong towards the southwest. It lasered all the way off the _Black Diamond_ and hit one of the galleons still tied at the Velvet Court port.

Jake picked up the glowing, ethereal rose like a lazy susan. Sollux held out one of the larger sea charts towards Jake, and Jake set down the compass on top of the map. The beam of light vanished, and the compass dissipated into the paper. When Sollux held the chart up to the light and tilted it back and forth, the silver lines of the map changed to route their journey based on how Sollux positioned it. “Fuck yes,” Sollux yelled, over the song.

Dirk’s heel bumped against the rail, and they all gave the rope one final tug. One sail up, a couple more to go, and all the rest required less manpower. Then, they’d be off to rescue their long lost King.  
  
---|---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psa: no, karkat is incorrect, gonorrhea does not go away on its own, please go see your doctor


	12. ソーラン節

John wasn't physically present, but Dirk suspected he watched them from the winds: the direction shifted northeast as soon as all sails were raised and they were out of port, allowing them to bank fast to the southwest. Sollux and Vriska, still enamored with the map, engaged in furious discussion over where _exactly_ the _Black Diamond_ was headed, and if it indeed would take two whole months with the Wind King providing his undivided attention.

Jake leaned against the port rail in the aft near the helm, and watched all the activity with a pleasant smile on his face. The sea winds blustered through his perfect hair. He was still posing like a sex kitten: shoulders dropped, spine a little curved, standing with his heel against his opposite arch so he would have looked like a dancer if shoeless... Yeah, he couldn't just stand around, be pretty, and make tea for two whole months. Jake needed to learn a trade that wasn't sex work. For the good of himself and everyone around him.

Dirk slid next to him on the rail, making a point of not bumping shoulders. Dirk asked him what his favorite part of sailing was, what he'd like to learn to do.

Jake pouted. "Why can't I just do the same thing I did when you first plucked me from the ocean depths?"

"You admitted you were bored out of your mind," said Dirk. "No need to repeat that. Besides, it's always nice to have an extra hand."

His pout grew more exaggerated. "You already tried to teach me all sorts of things on our first journey! And I couldn't learn it then, so why force me to try this droll hard work fuckery now?"

"We didn't attempt to teach you anything, we had you try a bunch of things because we wanted to see if you already possessed a skill you could use on our ship," said Dirk, honestly recollecting what happened. Jake didn’t seem convinced. Dirk sighed. "Look, dude, even if you spend two months fucking up horrendously and never learning one goddamn thing, we really won't care. It's not like we're going to adopt you into our crew or anything. You said you wanted a quiet home on land after all this, right?"

Jake looked away, frowning. He seemed sad, or regretful or something. But he nodded, and said, "Okie dokie, Dirk. What should I learn?"

“We all do rigging, repairs, watch duty, and other menial shit. So you're gonna have to learn some of that. But otherwise, we each have our own specialties. It all depends on what you gravitate towards.”

Jake nodded, taking it seriously. Fantastic. Dirk supposed he should give a tour of everyone’s duties. He knew most everybody would be happy with having an apprentice, even if Jake turned out to be a poor student. He started with Roxy, who was across the deck, inspecting some knots. He pointed at her.

"For instance, Roxy specializes in the three Cs-- cooking, chemistry, and canons."

Roxy fired finger guns at Dirk. "You forgot about the other two Cs I'm pro at! Cocks and cunts."

"I'm pretty good at those two already," said Jake, grinning.

Dirk gestured towards Feferi next, on the other side of the mast.

"Feferi's our resident sea creature expert. She’s also the sail mistress from the dark beyond, she directs how to fix all the worn down sails and nets and ropes and other putzy things. It's probably the least glamorous job, but one of the most important."

Feferi waved at Jake. "It might not be glamorous, but I shore look gorgeous doing it!"

"Sollux does our charting, the real heavy math and geometry stuff, and he used to do route calculations with the wind and shit but that's been depreciated due to John."

Sollux twisted around mid-argument with Vriska and yelled from the bow, "Not sure if you're aware of this, but John's a massive dumbass. I still do weather routing to double check his work."

"Nepeta's the weapon guru, does all the repairs on our guns and swords and shit, and can polish a real fine shine. She's also our technique master on nearly everything, so if you need to learn how to use some new exotic weapon, she's your gal."

Nepeta turned from her spot near the pumps and gave Jake an obnoxious wink. Jake ignored it.

"Equius is our strongman, basically does all the heavy lifting and steering. You're absolutely not equipped for that, unless you want to start bulking up, developing callouses, and getting jacked."

"I've always wanted to get jacked, but I can’t do that in two months," mused Jake.

"Shame," said Equius, gripping the steering stick. Dirk couldn't tell if that was sarcastic.

"Aradia's our surgeon, does a great job of sewing up wounds and doctoring. She also does initial appraisal for the loot we get. How valuable items are, if they're worth hauling back, stuff like that."

"If you're not squeamish," said Aradia, grinning up from her seat on the deck floor. "I'd love to have you."

"Karkat does... hey, Karkat, what do you do again?"

Karkat flipped him the double bird from where he was leaning against the lifeboat. "I keep this ship fucking running because Vriska's too busy sucking her own clit to concern herself with such lofty ideals as 'supply distribution' and 'routing' and 'accounting.'"

"Secretly the real captain, right," said Dirk. "Vriska's the captain, obviously, but you're shit out of luck if you want her job because there's no way in hell she'll apprentice you. I'm the first mate, but the title means nothing with a crew this small. I double as _Equius 2: Electric Boogaloo_ and Vriska's bitch, and I doubt you want me schooling you in the fine art of bitchcraft."

"You want to be trained in as my backup bitch, English!?" hollered Vriska from all the way across the ship.

"No!" Jake called back, happily.

"So Jake, what do you think? What would you like to do?"

"Nepeta's work sounded blisteringly exciting, but from watching her on the journey previous I can assume it's simply a lot of cleaning, and I'd rather polish a different sort of rod. So, um... I'm not sure."

To be fair, Dirk didn’t know what Jake should do either. He didn’t seem equipped for any of it, like he’d start at square one no matter what he chose. But Dirk still didn’t want to decide for him. At least not without gathering some more intel.

“What do you enjoy doing, like, for fun?” asked Dirk, hoping for a clue. “What kind of hobbies do you have?”

"I read a ton... I have a lot of sex, not just for my profession... I like guns..." said Jake, really wracking his brain. It took him way too long to think of another activity. "Oh! I do decorative embalming services! For fun and fancy."

Dirk was not expecting anything close to what just came out of Jake's mouth. He was expecting something like 'scrapbooking' or 'knitting.' "Excuse me?" Dirk said, totally floored.

Jake waggled his finger, like he was giving a cute academic lecture. "In my country, we ornament the dead in a way that I haven't seen out here in the wilds. We take their skulls out of their heads and burn the rest, and decorate them with gold and gems and other pretty baubles. Then grandma can look spiffy on the fireplace mantle!"

As far as ways to mourn the dead went, it wasn't so bad. Dirk had seen much weirder funerary rituals on his travels. Having your uncle's decked out gold leafed skull decorating your house was a kind of ostentatious gothic Dirk could understand. Still, that was pretty fucking random.

This peaked Aradia’s interest. She hopped up, skipped over to the both of them, and leaned towards Jake all girlish and flirty. “You had your mitts in a cadaver? And didn’t get grossed out?”

“Oh, I’ve had my mitts buried on the regular!” said Jake, grinning. “It’s fun!”

"I'm in love already," said Aradia, matching his smile. "Do you have steady hands?"

"When I'm not nervous."

She nodded, dutifully, and said, “We can fix that. C’mon! I’ll show you how to braid a rope.”

Dirk was impressed. He didn’t know Jake was so hardcore. Aradia took Jake’s hand and pulled him to her spot on the deck. Jake shot Dirk an excited smile, like Dirk just forced him to make a new, interesting friend at a party. 

The first six days of the trip passed as per expected— no sudden surprises except for a light storm, which John was kind enough to ease for them. He rarely _stopped_ storms for them (”It makes a butter fly effect occur if I do that! Something worse will happen if I make a big change without doing all sorts of boring adjustments all over the world!”), he only directed the wind and lessened the severity so they never capsized or flooded. Jake stood on deck in the rain and watched John balance atop the swinging boon, singing with the rhythm of the downpour as he conducted the ship safely through the black and purple clouds. Jake’s mouth was open in awe the entire time, the rain dripping like honey down his lips.

Aradia had him hauling lines and cleaning along with the rest of them, which he wasn’t _terrible_ at, but she also gave him specialized sewing tasks to practice stitching wounds. Jake was _really bad_ at the special tasks Aradia gave him. Which Dirk expected, and so did Aradia, but the sheer amount of times he failed at simple shit left Dirk reeling with frustration. For someone who theoretically did intricate decorative embalming work, he couldn’t even do a basic running stitch without poking himself and bleeding all over the practice scraps.

Thankfully, Aradia was a much better teacher than Dirk. She reveled in the failure, loved to watch it— not to laugh at or pity, but to witness whatever new exiting mistake he’d make next. And this allowed Jake to progress, in the end. After failing a thousand fuckin’ times in pathetic ways in front of his teacher and never once getting scolded or mocked for it, he stopped being so afraid of messing up. When his nervousness went away, so did the blocker on his abilities. Dude could patch a shirt in no time once he’d figured out the running stitch.

He stopped posing like a model after a few days of hard work. It was difficult to look all picturesque and attractive when he boarded the strugglebus— he couldn’t focus on poising his wrists and neck when he was throwing all his weight into raising a sail. Worryingly, Dirk’s lust for him didn’t lessen any, even when Jake sweat through his undershirt and had to take a mid-day, drooly nap in the middle of the deck.

Dirk had no chance to act on it, thankfully, until the both of them were given a sleeping shift in the late afternoon. It was the two of them and Roxy in the hull, and Roxy wasn’t tired whatsoever. She laid prone in her hammock, below and across the aisle from Dirk’s, playing her shamisen. The three strings twanged atonally as she improvised with the paddle-like plectrum.

He loved it when Roxy played the shamisen. He thought there was no better instrument to complement the rolling waves that lulled him to sleep every day, the way his hammock swung in the shadowy hold, the smell of the ocean around him. He shut his eyes and drifted with the movement of the rocking boat. Listened to the footsteps on the boards above him and the plucking of the strings.

He heard Jake sit up, all the way across the hull. They put Jake’s hammock as far away from Dirk’s as humanly possible. Dirk agreed with this decision. 

"Roxy," Jake asked. "Can I cuddle with Dirk?"

Dirk felt his face heat. Roxy stopped plucking her shamisen and laughed. "I mean, why don't you just ask him? I'm not your parental chaperone. But if I hear any squelching noises..."

Dirk sat up and leaned off the side of his hammock in order to see her. She made a gesture that implied she'd chuck her plectrum at Dirk's forehead like a ninja star. Dirk nodded gravely.

Jake did not ask Dirk, because of fuckin’ course Dirk would say yes. Dirk had to help Jake get into his hammock —Dirk’s was up fairly high, right near the ceiling— but once Jake got in they settled together easy. Jake laid on Dirk’s chest, his long legs locked around Dirk’s lower half. Dirk rested his hands on Jake’s waist, holding him lightly. For pajamas, Jake wore a ridiculously oversized shirt, like a nightgown, and nothing underneath. The fabric was loose and thin, and Jake’s skin was warm.

The hug was lovely, Jake was soft as ever, and Dirk felt heat course through him. Embarrassment was replaced with the glow of light intimacy. He hoped it wouldn’t devolve into uncontrollable lust.

Due to the deep curve of the hammock, Roxy couldn’t see them from where she rested. But she could hear everything they would say to each other besides for the most quiet of whispers. Aware of this, Dirk asked, “Why cuddles, dude?”

"Since the lot of you are aware that my schlong's cursed, I figure it's fine to indulge in my more innocuous physical cravings," said Jake. He slid down against Dirk, and propped his chin up on Dirk’s chest, beneath his knuckles. Glassesless, and with most of his jewelry removed for the sleep shift, he beamed up at Dirk.

"So I'm your go-to cuddle bitch?"

"I asked Aradia, but she told me I was 'too warm and breathed too much.'"

Yup, that'd be Aradia. Roxy yelled from her spot, "Aww, Jake, you coulda asked me! I _live_ for hugs, my guy!"

"Let's get to know each other first," Jake replied, twisting his head towards Roxy. He resumed his pose against Dirk in order to quietly lecture at him. "I can do the in-and-out with strangers 'til the sun goes down, but engaging in snuggles with randos? That's too far!"

"Okay," Dirk stated. He had no idea if that was a joke.

Jake shut his eyes. Dirk didn’t. He took his sweet time, trawling his gaze over Jake’s relaxed face, over his elegant fingers resting against Dirk’s chest. He was struck with the urge to stroke Jake’s hair back and kiss his forehead, but resisted.

Jake had finally taken those damn rings off. One of his hands looked dry and chapped. He had a small cut on his knuckles, from the skin breaking. The other hand was poorly wrapped with a strip of white fabric. Dirk plucked the bandaged hand from his chest and gave it a squeeze. Jake’s eyes fluttered open, and he propped himself up, curious. 

“Did you wrap this yourself?” asked Dirk, quietly. Roxy plucked her shamisen in the distance. “It'll bunch up around the fingers if you don't wrap it around your thumb.”

"Oh, sorry," said Jake, wincing.

"For what? It's your hand, dude," said Dirk, raising an eyebrow. "I'll show you how to do it."

They shifted in the hammock, and Dirk carefully unwound the cloth, then set it beside him. Jake’s palm was red and tender, about to split and scab. Rope burns. Dirk gripped him beneath the sore spots and got distracted by the look of it. He liked holding Jake. He liked how the curve of his palm fit around Jake's wrists. They were so elegant. Dirk didn't feel worthy touching them.

Dirk pressed Jakes palm open, and was struck by the urge to compare their hands. He pushed against Jake, and their fingers spread apart in tandem: Jake had bigger hands. Longer, more slender, delicate as spun glass.

Jake watched with lowered lashes. His lips parted. They looked soft. Wet with spit. Pressure built up in the back of Dirk’s head; he wanted a kiss. But Jake didn’t make eye contact, so he settled for the next best thing. 

He curled Jake’s fingers around his, as though to guide Jake into a dance. He brought Jake’s knuckles to his lips, then kissed them. Gentle. And quiet, so Roxy wouldn’t hear.

Jake inhaled and blushed, his green eyes staring all vulnerable at Dirk. It wasn’t enough. The pressure in Dirk’s body only increased, so he continued, even though he shouldn’t have. He unfurled Jake’s hand, and kissed every one of his fingertips, as careful as he could. Jake’s breathing grew heavier, Dirk grew hotter, the shamisen strummed along with them.

Dirk let go of Jake, and Jake placed his other hand against Dirk’s mouth. In control of the situation this time, Jake decided when to be kissed, and watched Dirk with darkening eyes as he pressed his fingers, one by one, silently against Dirk’s lips. Dirk kissed every one, and below the belt, his hands wandered. He stretched out so as to trace the hem of Jake's nightshirt, to press his fingertips against Jake's soft thighs and inch his clothes up just a little more...

Dirk's pulse beat through every vein in his body. He felt himself swell against Jake. It'd be so easy to rock up and rut against him, get Jake's half-hard dick all the way there. They could frot, it wouldn't move the hammock so much.

A jarring, out-of-tune pluck from the shamisen brought Dirk back to his senses. He couldn’t fucking do this. He couldn't mess around, 'cuz he didn't know at what point Jake would curse him. Jade said he'd curse someone when a partner used his body, but when exactly was that? Did Dirk already cross that line?

Fear overtook the arousal, and Dirk lifted his hands, holding them in front of him in surrender. Jake stilled, waiting to see what Dirk would do. Dirk shook his head ‘no.’

Jake’s face crumpled in, frowning, almost tearful with dejection. He leaned in and wrapped himself fully around Dirk, his arms folded around Dirk’s shoulders, his breath right in Dirk's ear. Dirk was so warm he thought he’d melt right into Jake.

"We can just play," whispered Jake, so quiet that Dirk had to feel the words off of Jake’s lips moving against his ear. "We don't have to finish. Please, honeycomb, I want you."

The 'I want you' burned through Dirk's throat and chest like cinnamon whiskey. He shut his eyes, tight. He couldn't look at that pretty body anymore or he'd lose it. He couldn't touch Jake. He went too far already. No matter how horny Dirk was, it was fuckin’ wrong to touch a guy who was struggling with using his body as a commodity.

Dirk turned to do the same to Jake, to whisper right in his ear. "Roxy's right there. I'm not in the mood."

"Yes you are!" whispered Jake. "Your heart is beating fast, your skin is a little bit warmer than normal, and your throat is all extended because you're feeling vulnerable."

Dirk took a deep breath, trying to still the incessant beating in his body. Once his thoughts were mostly in order, he whispered, "Why do you want to risk it?"

"I really do just want to do a little over the clothes fondling," Jake whined. "I haven't gotten the chance to play pocket tennis since your crew keeps badgering me about doing work every minute I have and I'm _really_ pent up..."

Weird that Jake would risk fuckin’ killing Dirk and/or the crew for some heavy petting. Did Jake not know the specifics of when and how he doomed people? Dirk would have to ask him later.

"Yeah, it’s pretty rough. You have to be quiet about it and do it in your hammock when no one's in your immediate vicinity. There's no delicate way to go about it," whispered Dirk. 

Jake raised himself, to look Dirk in the eyes with a puppy dog pout. Dirk shook his head 'no' again. Jake sighed, leaned a respectable distance away, and held out his hand for Dirk to re-wrap it.

Dirk took a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. It helped that he had something to focus on. He wound the bandage around Jake, the right way, and tried not to get distracted by those gorgeous wrists again. He’d definitely need something on top of the intimate bandaging in order to get himself back in a chaste mood.

Not caring if Roxy heard him, he said, "Let's talk a little. 'Bout something... normal. Preferably."

Jake watched him wrap the bandage around the thumb, like it was supposed to go, before answering. He rattled his prompt out like he was waiting for an opportunity to ask. "Could you tell me about your past? What we saw on that incredibly sketchy ride? I'm quite curious as to how you grew from a little cutie pie girlie to a hardcore tattooed beast of a man."

Dirk made sure to wrap Jake's entire palm, so Jake wouldn't get any more rope burns. He tied it off around the wrist. Roxy started playing one of the fisherwomen's shanties, ingrained in her fingers after years of performing it. Even though it had been so long, Dirk could imagine the words clearly, and they echoed in his head as Roxy strummed her tune.

"Sure," said Dirk, trying not to smile like an idiot at being called a 'beast.'

Jake examined his newly wrapped hand in the dim, checkerboard sunbeams shining from the main hatch. He laid back down on Dirk again, resting his chin on Dirk's chest and gazing up at him attentively. Dirk wanted to stroke Jake's hair, but decided he shouldn't tempt the _hardcore tattooed beast_ inside. He settled for a hug, and spoke to Jake softly.

“So I’m from a country that’s got some incredibly strict gender roles. But it varied depending on the area. In my town, which was on the coast, the women _had_ to be fisherwomen and the men did, uh, we called it ‘rentanjyutsu’ but it was just a fancy term for chemistry. They made preservatives, poisons, body altering potions to help the women, and of course brewed up a shit ton of recreational drugs.”

Jake frowned. “Isn’t it usually the other way ‘round with the strict gender stuff?”

“Turns out the men had a ridiculously low life expectancy from snorting asbestos or being utter morons and exploding themselves. Fishing was less dangerous. Gotta keep the women alive to propagate the species or whatever the fuck.”

Jake nodded solemnly.

“Anyway, when you were like, a kid-- a real little kid, age four or so-- you got put on a fishing ship to do work,” Dirk continued. “I did six years on it. Don’t remember a lot of it, but my body does. It feels like it’s baked into me: how to pull up a net, how to lean to steer the boat, what to do during a storm. I liked the work, but watching the women, watching what I was supposed to become made me feel… uncomfortable.”

He said, putting it lightly. He didn’t remember a whole lot about his childhood, but he remembered the inherent disgust that seeped into his heart. These grotesque shivers that wracked his insides. Not every day, not like a constant feeling of wrongness, but enough to make him take action.

“I noticed the women who took the imbibed strength elixirs… their bodies changed. I wanted that, but I wanted an extreme version of it. I wasn’t allowed to take them until after puberty, but I stole them and chugged ‘em anyway. Learned how to re-create it in the pitch black morning, utterly silent so nobody would hear me. Maxed out the dosage and shit. They made me real sick until I figured out the right balance. And I was able to sneak by like that for a year or so, until my metaphorical balls started dropping and my shoulders grew too broad for the girl’s kimono, and it was clear I’d been drugging myself up to fuck with my puberty.”

Jake watched, attentively. No negative reaction or anything, which was good. The hammock rocked with the ship, he heard the boards creak quietly over Roxy’s shamisen.

“I couldn’t deal with them taking that away from me. So I ran. Stole a sailboat, clothes, food, the herbs and distilling equipment I needed… Set off for nowhere in particular. Picked out a cool new name, drew some bad stick and poke tattoos on myself, cut my hair --that felt damn good by the by, I hated those fuckin’ braids-- and learned Common just 'cuz that turned out to be the language of the seas. And became a pirate. And here I am now, badass and weathered."

There was some other stuff too. Learned to barter with sea merchants. Almost starved a couple times. Almost drowned even more. Lived on an island for a while and ate nothing but seagulls for like three months. Got captured by slavers at 14 after making some bad decisions in a Dersite port. Got rescued by Vriska and Terezi.

He remembered, as a teen, doubting his choices, especially when he got kidnapped. Why didn’t he settle down? Why did he keep running? Nobody was chasing him. Why did he have to keep moving all the fuckin’ time? And why did he keep chugging liquid dudeliness when there were technically no gender roles to adhere to on the open seas? Nobody gave a shit anymore, he could act how he wanted without the drugs, why should he care? 

But he ceased doubting himself the day he was forced to stop it all. The way his body changed in the six months on that cramped slaver ship with no doses of alchemyc manlyness majyyks felt like nails on the chalkboard of his soul. He realized he liked who he was becoming, deeply. He liked his voice and his dick and his build and how people treated him. Herbs for distilling into imbibed masculinity potions were the first things he asked Terezi and Vriska to get for him, once they took over the slaver ship.

"Is that why your accent is so weird?" asked Jake.

"My accent is markedly normal, thank you very much," said Dirk. _"You're_ the weird one."

| 

「ソーラン節」

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Qzd0pglHlJtgO8Dlx9yqY)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vH-ogzBUxeI)]

* * *

この歌は伝統的な歌詞を使っている。  
  
---|---  
  
Roxy ended the song, and shifted to a different tune-- one he didn’t know. Roxy was, hilariously, from the same village he was, but they never met each other before they both happened to get shoved together on the same slaver ship. She also got real into chemistry, secretly and against the grains of their culture, but never ran away. Her whole fishing ship got captured by the slavers, and she opted to become a pirate as opposed to going back. 

Jake sighed, and shut his eyes. Dirk gave into his urges, and stroked Jake’s hair. It was so fucking soft. Jake hummed, content.

“That must have been really difficult,” said Jake. “Going against your family’s expectations of what your body should do… And saying ‘no’ to the role they forced on you. Running away and _staying_ away.”

Dirk shrugged. “I mean, I was really young and never felt attached to my blood family. Or my culture. I don’t think it’s as big a deal as you’re making it.”

Jake jerked up to look Dirk in the eye, and raised his voice. “That’s not true at all! You’ve got your culture tattooed on your skin, and your choice of weapons, and how you dress and poise yourself! You’re dismissing all this great bravery and strength you showed and it’s making me want to sock you!”

“It’s true,” called Roxy, over the song of the shamisen.

“Alright, alright,” Dirk conceded, not wanting to argue. 

Neither of them said anything else. Jake resumed his relaxed pose on top of Dirk. The hammock swayed in time with the slow music. This was the perfect opportunity to address the thought Dirk had earlier.

"My turn for a topic," said Dirk. “Do you know why you ‘curse’ people?”

"No," muttered Jake. "I don't know why amalgamating with that poor goddess caused me to start mucking with my diverse sex life! It really is a huge pain and I wish the Dead King could have taken it away..."

Dirk couldn't figure out if he was lying about not knowing. Should he tell Jake what the Star King told him? See how Jake reacts? Sure, why not. He liked gathering evidence.

"I dreamt of her, of the Star King. She told me about you," said Dirk. Jake didn't seem alarmed, he just quirked his head and blinked curiously, so Dirk continued. "She said you doom your partners because all they see is a beautiful warm toy to fuck."

Jake was taken aback. Roxy's plucking quieted, just a little, and the tune grew less complex. She was listening closely.

"No?" Jake said, raising his voice. "That's not true at all! I love hanky panky, and it doesn’t matter if I’m viewed as an up-and-down wind up doll or what the fuck ever. It's my career and the only thing I'm crazy good at so why would I sabotage my whole entire life like that?"

"It's subconscious. And you do it 'cuz nobody who's fucking you gets to see the person inside," said Dirk, and touched Jake's cheek. He almost told the second part of the Star King’s spiel to Jake, the 'and you can't change, because you're afraid the person inside won't compare to the pretty body,' but decided against it. He'd work on that later. Instead, he continued with, "And honestly, your subconsciousness wasn't off base. Literally the minute I brought you on our ship the entire crew started viewing you exclusively as a fine piece of meat. Ain't that right, Roxy?"

"Sure did," said Roxy, twanging her shamisen absentmindedly. "Sorry I tried to slam ya before, Jake. I get sups distracted by a hot bod and forget about their emotions sometimes, 'specially if I'm not friends with 'em yet."

"No, no, I like the attention," said Jake, confused. He brushed Dirk’s hand away from his face. "I liked it when everyone was looking at me all dark and stormy. I don't think your dream about the Star King was real, Dirk."

"Maybe not," said Dirk, lying. "But I want you to know that I was wrong to think of you as just eye candy. We were all wrong. And I think it’ll be fun to get to know you over the coming weeks, yeah? I’d like to be friends with you, Jake.”

This did not have the effect Dirk intended. Instead of looking relieved, or thankful, or even neutral, Jake’s face crumpled into something like disgust. It was like Dirk catcalled him, or wolf whistled at him. Dirk didn’t understand why Jake was distressed.

"Um," said Jake, pushing himself off of Dirk. "I'd like to go back to my hammock now."

Dirk let him go, too stunned to do otherwise. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong. Without another word, Jake climbed out of the hammock, and hopped down to scamper back to his spot. Dirk felt like Jake turned him down for a date, for some reason. 

Roxy didn’t let the awkward silence sit for long. She stopped strumming her shamisen, began loudly disassembling it, and said, “Yeah, we should all stop blabberin’ and get some sleep anyway. Catch some zzzs before the night shift.” 

She had a point, but that didn’t help Dirk fall asleep any faster. He fret over what mistake he could have possibly made, alone in the dark hull, and was sleep deprived for his shift at the helm that night.

Thankfully, Jake’s attitude didn’t seem affected by the incident. The next day, he was chipper and friendly as usual, and thanked Dirk for wrapping his hand the next time he had to haul in a net. Dirk tried to forget about whatever mistake he made.

Jake’s first skills test came when Karkat tripped over the fuckin’ anchor and needed two stitches on his calf. Jake was _very_ nervous about it. “Don’t worry!” Aradia consoled, eagerly. “We’re getting him drunk as _shit_ so he can’t feel you mess up!” 

Karkat was very encouraging, to the point of tears in his drugged up state, and Jake jammed the burning hot, sanitized needle into Karkat incorrectly only three times before getting it. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” Karkat sobbed, once Jake pulled it off and tied the stitch shut. Jake seemed proud of himself too, grinning nervously at his handiwork.

Aradia had Jake practicing guitar to help with steadying his hands. Which he was also terrible at, but at least he was in tune. He developed a sense of rhythm after playing along with the shanties, but still didn’t sing along with the crew.

Jake didn’t try to sleep in Dirk’s hammock anymore, but they read books aloud together before going to bed, whenever they were on similar shifts. They sat in a lower hammock like a couch, all cuddled up next to each other, and took turns reading chapters. Jake revealed he learned Common through smuggled fiction and tutors who passed it down from teacher to teacher through their isolated centuries. He said very few people spoke it in his country, which made sense as to why Jake initially found Dirk & Co. so hard to understand. 

Dirk finally tried Jake's tea. It _was_ pretty good. Jake made some fragrant rose brew that tasted like sex in a field of wildflowers. Dirk asked if tea making counted as a fourth hobby, but Jake happily replied, "No!" and didn't clarify any further. Dirk stopped asking him for tea after that, and spent way too long in the hull theorizing with Nepeta and Karkat over what the _fuck_ Jake meant by that. Nepeta thought that Jake was just confused over what a hobby was, Karkat thought this was some kind of cultural gender role he was expected to do, and Dirk thought Jake considered it a part of his job.

Dirk also let Jake make a poison cocktail for him, to sip on. Jake was fascinated by it, "I know all the theory of poisons but I never get to see the handiwork!" Dirk was surprised to find out he made the cocktail actually taste, like, reasonably good. Dirk had Vriska try it, she agreed wholeheartedly, and Jake played bartender for their next game of Mixed Drink Mixtery. He was good at it. Neither of them guessed their drinks correctly, and Vriska was so mad that she challenged Jake to an arm wrestle. Vriska won, for once in her puny-armed life.

A month into their journey, Vriska got in one of her Moods. During these instances, she would rappel down the stern of the boat, sit in the little window notch that looked into her cabin, and sang alone to the trailing waves behind the _Black Diamond_ rudder. Her voice always carried through the winds over the noises of their journey, especially when nobody was doing any heavy tasks on deck. Nobody was doing heavy tasks on deck. 

Her voice sounded like the ghost of a widow in mourning. Haunting. Echoing over the sea like a memory. It was too bad she never sang for them. He tried to encourage her in the past, but despite her outward attitude she was never confident enough to perform for them.

Nobody on deck was perturbed by the song, except Jake. Dirk was at the till this afternoon, and Jake was sitting next to him, braiding rope. He stopped the task, jerked his head up, and looked around like a rabbit who just noticed a predator sneaking up on it.

“Is… Is that Vriska?” said Jake, shocked. “She’s… not terrible!?”

Dirk put his finger to his lips. “Shh. We all pretend we can’t hear her. Makes her feel better about angsting.”

Jake frowned, and shut his eyes, trying to focus on Vriska’s next stanza. In a whisper, he asked, “Can I listen in?”

Dirk raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Just make sure you’re quiet.”


	13. Serket at Amber Isle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **this chapter operates like a songfic!** (yes you still have to read the lyrics)
> 
> _to the tune of Jim Jones at Botany Bay_
> 
> _[[youtube link (preferred!!!)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT2d2CWAqS8)] [[vastly inferior spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/5gUHyVNajuo42IZ3wIJT2Z)]_
> 
> * * *

_Listen for a moment, scrubs, I'll tell you 'bout my isle_  
_How mom was just a filthy whore, fled to avoid a trial_  
_Hid among the strict old maids who forced her to atone_  
_Of course she died on Amber Isle and left me all alone_

Vriska always wanted to leave, from the day she took her first steps ‘til the day she almost died. Problem was, there were no boats to steal, not even a dinky raft, and the fatass merchant ladies who traded meats and supplies for the Amber Isle Ale were super creepy around the little girls— she didn’t want to sneak aboard their ships and get treated to who-knows-what. Sometimes she stared at the long, empty blue horizon and thought about swimming right the fuck outta dodge, but this brilliant plan was hampered by the fact the Mothers never taught her to swim. They probably feared her inherent swimming prowess that she was certain she secretly possessed. Those assholes.

Amber Isle consisted of two gardens, a field with bines and bines of hops, an oast house, some houses and barns to brew stuff in, a monastery where the Mothers were, a barracks for all the repentant whores (and where her dead mom used to be), and a big row house where all the kids slept. Everything was built from the white, sundried earth of the island, and glimmered in the warm ocean sun. It wasn't that the island was small or ugly, it was just _so dang boring._ There was nothing to do! At all! It was work, work, work, all the time, forever, until they died. Bluh. 

And all the other kids her age were such losers. Just awful. They were all whiny about not being able to see their moms, ‘cuz their moms were cloistered in what Vriska called the Whore House. She was sure that her dead mom got lumped in with them by accident. The handmaids must have been lying to her about how her mom was a terrible human being and Vriska needed to repent for the sins of the blood or whatever. Maybe instead, her mom was a cool pirate who dramatically washed ashore while super preggers during a thunderstorm, shat out the most perfect little girl on Amber Isle, and then killed two handmaids in a fistfight before dying dramatically on top of the Mother Superior. That would have been so rad.

She didn’t want to be friends with any of these plebeian whoresons anyway. There was only one kid who was ever worthy of being her best friend. Her partner in crime, her forever girl, her comrade in arms, Terezi Pyrope. 

She could only see out of one eye, and that one eye was a piece of shit, but she operated as well as a kid with _eight thousand_ eyes. They loved each other. They shared their Thursday sugar cakes with each other. They both got jobs stirring the big copper pot with all the boiling beer juice in it just to be close during the day. They would stuff their beds with straw, escape in the middle of the night, sit in the abandoned shack just off the side of the oast house, and whisper make-believe stories to each other until dawn.

They weren't supposed to refer to each other by their real names, only dull stuff like 'Sister Pyrope' instead of 'Terezi,' and only 'Mother' for the handmaids, but Vriska and Terezi ignored the hell out of that. They ignored all the rules, actually. “No socializing,” said the Mothers. “No talking while you work,” said the Mothers. “Do what you’re told,” said the Mothers. Terezi was a lot better at dodging all the rule breaking than Vriska was. Vriska hadn’t had a full head of hair her whole life.

_They always said I misbehaved, I earned a goddamn slap_  
_Why don’t you just do what you’re told or else you’ll get the strap_  
_Or else you’ll get the strap says she and after that, Serket_  
_We’ll cut your hair and bruise your skin, you’re always in our debt_

They had to work allllllll the time, stirring boiling water full of hops and barley and junk with giant poles, except for the weekends. They had to go to class on the weekends, learn Common so they could read the “holy text of the twin gods.” There was a red god who punished you if you ever thought about your body or sex or whatever, and there was a green one who rewarded you if you were innocent and pure and blah blah who even cared! Vriska sure didn’t. She’d spend class flicking spitballs or boogers at the hair of the girl who sat in front of her, who was just the _worst_ little suck up.

She’d always get caught, of course. "Why don't you do what you're told?" they'd say, as they hit her. "Do what you're told, do what you're told," they'd say, as Vriska lost her last baby tooth. 

And then when she was _really_ bad, they'd strip her down naked and make her do her normal tasks, and everyone would laugh at her and make fun of how skinny and small she was. Unlike the beatings, which she liked to show off as a badge of pride, she didn't really know how to describe what that did to her, and tried really hard not to think about it.

But it was fine. Her and Terezi played some top tier pranks on the girls in their row house. Stealing extra Thursday cakes and hiding them under a little Sister’s pillow. Then waiting for the Mothers to discover it and watch them tan that girl’s fucking hide. Extremely satisfying!

None of the girls liked Vriska because of this kind of stuff. Because they were weak. But that was okay, she didn’t need to be friends with loser suck-ups! All she needed was Terezi.

_A storm was strong upon the sea when the pirates came along_  
_They crashed their ship against the reefs and died ‘fore evening gone_  
_A lifeboat washed ashore with goods, a drowned corpse in tow_  
_I stole the book inside the hull, before the maids could know_

It was the most interesting day of her life, and her and Terezi didn’t wait for the typhoon to let up to go explore the beach. It was dangerous, but with some daring-do and perfectly synchronized teamwork, they snagged a mysterious looking tome from the loaded lifeboat sent from the pirate ship. A dead, bloated pirate was clutching it and everything! This was the coolest shit _ever._

They planned to go back down and raid the lifeboat a night when the storm cleared up, but the weather wasn’t in their favor. The Mothers got to it first, and sold all the stuff in the boat to the merchants, and sold the remains of the crashed sloop on the reefs to them as well. But the two Sisters kept their book a secret.

The book was dense and thick, bound in red leather, and labeled: NO GODS; FOUR KINGS; ONE COUNCIL ONE QUEEN in Common. It took Vriska _forever_ to read the title. She hadn’t been paying attention in class. But Terezi could read the Common for her. They kept it hidden in the unused shack that they snuck off to, and read it together by candlelight in low whispers, so the Mothers couldn’t hear them across the hop field. Vriska started paying attention in class so she could read the book.

It was a ship’s log, a captains diary. They ate it up, their hearts were captured by the text in the tome. The stories they told each other in the dark turned to re-tellings of the adventures the pirates wrote in this journal. They read of mystical journeys, and pirate holds, and freedom, and the Four Kings.

These gods were so much better than the gods she’d been learning about. She loved these guys! They were something to _believe_ in. She was super bummed that the Star King was dead-- the 'guidance powers' sounded a lot like good luck magic and she was totally on board with that. But she settled on dreaming about the Wind King, how awesome it would be to always have the wind at her back, or to get a nice breeze through her hair when she was tired and sweaty from pushing a crazy heavy pole over a giant vat of boiling water all day. But the Wind King only wandered, following his heart, and wasn't dependably called. Just like a real pirate.

There _was_ a guide on how to summon the Dead King.

While summoning the Dead King would have been totally cool, Vriska knew first aid was pretty bad around these parts. Last year, this bitch named Sister Rodell jammed her finger on a nail and then died of infection within like two months. The handmaids kept amputating and all that black skin never went away. Even if Vriska only chopped off a pinky, she didn't want to cack it in such a lame way.

Still, Vriska memorized the chant you were supposed to say right before you cut your limb off. So the Dead King would know it was his. She sang it as she climbed the child’s stepstool to peer over the copper brewing pots, as she stirred the heavy boiling hops with a rake. Terezi sang along, across from her. They had to mutter it, or others would hear, and tattle on them for talking.

"Pirating's hard, out there on the sea  
I want a bit of a rest for me  
Life's kind of a mess  
And we don't play chess  
So what do you say to the god of death...?  
TODAY MOTERFUCKER, TODAY!"

She had no clue why the lyrics were like that. Terezi suggested the Dead King would pick you up and carry you to his afterlife if you asked for it, and then she told Vriska it sounded like a very nice death. That made Vriska very upset, for reasons she couldn't figure out, and she gave Terezi her share of the Thursday cake the next time they had it.

She wasn't super subtle about sharing her dessert, and got her bare ass whipped again for socializing too much. Whatever. She could take it. It was just really hard to sit down for like three days.

They read through the whole journal ten, twenty times. Made up countless, awesome, self-insert stories about themselves. But Terezi got sadder and sadder, and Vriska got frustrated with how Terezi was all blue for _no reason_ and… they grew apart. Got in some bad arguments. Sicced the Mothers on each other. And then Vriska was alone.

_Two years pass, and I get seen reading this disgusting fare_  
_I took the blame ‘cuz I was prone to so much less despair_  
_They caught me then and whipped me good and shaved my head again_  
_Because of them I tripped and spilled and ended up in pain_

Since Terezi and her weren’t talking any more, they got sloppy with hiding their pirate journal. Vriska was blamed when the Mothers discovered it, and Terezi did _nothing_ to share the burden. The bitch.

They made Vriska watch as they burned her most precious possession, the book that gave her all her hopes and dreams. Then they wrecked Vriska good. She couldn’t recognize herself in the mirror when they were done. She went bowlegged. It was hard to breathe. Her head was shaved to the bloody skin beneath. And they wouldn’t even let her go to the sick bay, they made her work right after.

“Do what you’re told, just do what you’re told.” The next time somebody said that, Vriska was going to blow a fucking gasket. 

She could barely stand up on the child’s stepstool, much less hold the heavy rake that stirred the hops. Even for someone as brave and strong as her, it was inevitable that she’d fall. 

When she toppled, her face hit the boiling hot copper rim, and her cheek slid down the outside of the basin. She smelled her flesh melt before she felt the pain. She pushed herself off with both her hands, maybe a little more on the left side, and her palms and wrists burned with white hot pain. She screamed, writhed on the floor. It was the worst pain anybody ever experienced in the history of time. And nobody helped her.

They let her go to the sick bay, finally. They wrapped her face and hands and let her nap the day away, but kicked her out when she woke up and started folding gauze into paper airplanes that she hurled at the other assholes who where _totally_ just pretending to be sick. Nobody had it as bad as her!

It was harvesting season, so they swapped her job to picking hops. She couldn’t stir the pots anymore with her uggo mitten bandage hands and half a face. Vriska figured she’d heal up fine, she always had! But only her right hand got better. Her left hand got… gross. And her face started to stink. She smelled it constantly, like moldy bread. It was so disgusting she couldn’t sleep. And no matter how much she asked, she never got a fresh set of bandages, or clean bathing water, or another stay in the sick bay. And when her left thumb started bloating, heavy underneath the wet bandages, they wouldn’t cut it off. “You never do what you’re told, so why should we listen to you?”

And she started getting sick. She would walk ten steps and faint. She was sweaty, like, all the time. She was so tired, but when she tried to sleep, she couldn’t. She was starving, she couldn’t make it to the dining hall. She was so hot, burning up, it felt like she was pressed against the pot again. She’d have nightmares about it. She’d have nightmares about her hand falling off like Sister Rodell. She’d dry heave, ‘cuz there was nothing to force out. And Vriska understood she was going to die. And that everybody on that island _wanted_ her to die.

She was going to die a fucking loser. She never made anything of herself, and nobody liked her, and they probably wouldn't even have a funeral for her. They'd just throw her gross, already rotty, piss and shit covered corpse in the ocean and none of them would even miss her. They'd forget her within months. She'd been mean and nasty to all these girls that didn't deserve it, when she should have been mean and nasty to the women who forced her to work for nothing, who insulted her, who threw her joy away, who made fun of her naked, skinny body. And inevitably, _they_ were the ones who caused her to die. Not her, not fate, just them.

She probably had eight days left, maybe. And that was enough time to make a lasting impression. Vriska Serket refused to die a nobody.

But it took longer than she thought to carry out the first step of her master plan. Three days to steal a paring knife from the kitchen. Just a dinky paring knife. And tragedy consumed her soul, she knew that no matter how strong or awesome she was, she could not pull off her grand scheme with her body crumbling.

But there was someone who could.

She found Terezi just before bedtime. Terezi had a corner bed, at the way end of the rowhouse, and she sat facing the wall. Vriska limped to her former bestie, dragged her rotted, moist meat sack over to give last confessions. She sank to her knees, before Terezi, in the most selfless, penitent thing Vriska had ever done in her whole life. Terezi was not particularly impressed by this totally humbling act, and clasped a hand over her nose. Vriska couldn’t really smell herself anymore, but c’mon, it couldn’t be _that_ bad.

Looking at Terezi, her one real connection, her mortality hit her all at once. Vriska started to cry, like a little bitch. Tears rolled out her eye, and her apology actually came from her heart, this time.

“Terezi, Sis’, Pyrope, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got in arguments with you, I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. I’m sorry. I’m going to die,” Vriska sobbed. “And- and when I’m dead, you have to promise me-”

Vriska took the kitchen knife from her apron and laid it next to Terezi. An offering. “-that you kill every single Mother on this fucking trash heap island.”

Terezi stared at Vriska, blank, for a while. Vriska kept crying, silently, unsure as to what Terezi thought. But Terezi’s face split into a smile, then a grin, and she burst into laughter. Scream laughing, tears streaming from her wonky eyes, the whole shebang. It took her a while to recover, and she wiped her tears away, then ruffled Vriska’s short short hair. 

“Actually,” said Terezi, still giggling. “I have a better idea.”

************

They sat in the abandoned shack, in the pitch black, with a single candle between them. Vriska couldn’t sit up anymore, or she’d get light headed and faint. She laid on her side, her dress starched and drenched with layers of cold sweats. She could barely see Terezi sitting crosslegged, through the black spots in her vision. She was definitely running a fever. The only thing she could smell was the smoke from the dim candle.

"This is _so_ not going to work," Vriska wheezed out. “You’re gonna wind up like me.”

"Yeah, probably," said Terezi, twirling the knife around. The both of them kept their voices low, for fear of the Mothers or any of their fellow Sisters hearing them across the field.

"Then why are you doing it, idiot!?"

"Because I," said Terezi, then hesitated. "I dunno. I guess I want to see if he’s real..."

The thought of what might happen to Terezi after Vriska's death made Vriska want to retch. The tragedy that consumed Vriska's mind was so unfathomable, dark, and horrendous, that she chose to completely ignore all of it. "'Kay," she said, shrugging.

“Well, here goes nothing!” said Terezi, cheerfully. She raised the point of the paring knife to her blind eye, the useless one. The both of them rattled off the chant, perfectly in sync after years of humming it together.

"Pirating's hard, out there on the sea  
I want a bit of a rest for me  
Life's kind of a mess  
And we don't play chess  
So what do you say to the god of death...?  
Today, motherfucker, today."

Terezi flicked her wrist back, to wind up the killing blow.

"Whoa, hey there little lady," said a calm, eerily flat voice. A _giant_ gloved hand lashed out from the darkness and wrapped around Terezi's thin wrist just moments before she could fling the knife into her eye. "You’re doing it totally fucking wrong, you don’t wanna _wreck_ the eye, ‘cuz I lust after those things. I want to pop that baby in my head like you’re skullfucking me with some kind of insta-orgasm high quality dildo. Cappeesh?”

They screamed. Vriska’s heart started running ninety miles an hour, and she shot up to try and crab-walk-scramble away. Terezi dropped the knife, scampered on all fours towards Vriska. They clung to each other, their backs against the shack wall. Neither of them could stop screaming as this insanely tall, thin, looming, horrible pirate monster in a dark cloak stepped into the candlelight before them. Vriska had never seen a man in her life, and _boy_ she didn’t want to meet another one if they were all like this.

"Yeah I'm a pretty scary guy," said the Dead King, in a loud, annoyingly deadpan voice. "Anyway, chill out, little ladies, I'm here to kick ass and do some reasonable favors for you, and I'm all out of ass."

Terezi suddenly stopped screaming, and scowled at the Dead King like she was going to hit him with a ruler. Vriska also stopped screaming per example, but she still clung to Terezi with her able arm. 

"Shut up, they'll hear us!" Terezi hissed at the Dead King.

"They already heard us, you fucking moron, you screamed too loud!" hissed Vriska.

"What the fuck are you two talking about, is this a crank call," stated the Dead King.

They heard the noises of doors slamming across the field, of the Mothers yelling, of them running across the shucked bines. The light of moving lanterns shone beneath the door crack. Terezi hugged Vriska tighter. Vriska’s fear of the Dead King switched over to fear of the Mothers, and the Sisters clung to each other, breathing as quiet as they could. The Dead King stood, like a statue, and Vriska had the sense he stepped out of reality, even though he was still right there in front of her.

"Oh, hold up," he said, like he just jumped out of whatever dumb bonus dimension he phased into. He turned on his heel, took a step back, and kicked open the shed doors. He bellowed at the Mothers waiting, with a voice so deep Vriska could barely register it.

"Hello penguins, it's me, the agent of Caliborn, come to raze your island to the ground and put your heads on pikes or whatever. The only things holding me back are these two extremely powerful small children in here, so you'd best hope they're feeling merciful," said the Dead King. "Byesies. Watch out for the crows."

He grabbed the handle and dramatically shut the door. Behind the wood, there were the chaotic sounds of crows screeching, the Mothers screaming and running, and doors slamming. Warmth rose in Vriska’s chest, and she smiled through the dull hurt in her face.

The Dead King sat with them, on his knees, his black cloak fanning out around him in a near perfect circle, pressing against their legs. Vriska thought the cloth would feel cold, or void-y, or something super hardcore like that, but it just felt like a plain old boring normal cloak. The Dead King himself was pretty cool: he moved like a statue coming to life in short spurts.

"So first, gotta take your eye," said the Dead King, reaching for Terezi's face. "Sorry 'bout that, if I don't take payment up front I get all itchy and more irritable than an addict trying to quit and plagues start happening and before you know it I end up causing a deadly catastrophe. Kind of the universe's way of karmic balance I guess. Shut your eyes for me, kiddo."

Terezi took a deep breath, and leaned forward, into his touch. He gripped her face with one of his huge man hands, prolly to make sure she didn't move, but Vriska knew the Dead King could literally take a knife to Terezi's face and she wouldn't even twitch. With his other hand, he pressed his thumb gently to the eye she was going to poke out, the blind one. Terezi didn't flinch.

He let go of her. Terezi blinked a few times. Her blind eye totally vanished somewhere, and the lid above it couldn't open all the way. It fluttered pathetically over her empty pink socket. Vriska didn't think he hurt Terezi at all, she looked pretty dang confused about how he dissapearified her eye. She put her hand over it, trying to feel for the orb.

"So, why'd two six year old nuns summon a hedonistic force of chaos anyway?"

"We're twelve," said Vriska, offended.

"Holy shit, dang, really? You're so fucking tiny. That ain't right," said the Dead King, with absolutely no surprise in his voice. "Anyway, lookin' into your futures... I think you're gonna ask me something novel. I like novel."

"Correct," said Terezi, who had finished scouting out the map of her face. "We would like you to kill the infected skin on my best friend. Without killing her, or spreading the infection, obviously! Her face and her arm, please."

The Dead King's expression finally changed. He smiled, just a little, like he was in awe of them. "Clever," he said, slowly. "Real clever. Nobody ever asks for this kind of shit. You'd be surprised how few people manage to grasp what the fuck I actually do around here."

He swiveled towards Vriska. She couldn't believe Terezi was able to lean forward into his reach: Vriska's heart was pounding so hard, and her body kept shaking. It was probably the infection and the weakness and stuff, she knew she was just as brave as Terezi! But she couldn't move, and the Dead King had to scoot towards her.

"Doctor Dave is in the house, curin' wounds and savin' lives for once. Let's see your face, little lady," he said, and took her chin in his hand. He was warm, even through the glove. He peeled the bandage off her skin. It made a wet ripping sound, and stuck to her raw flesh with all sorts of gross body goo, and it hurt like someone was trying to wax her skin off. She whimpered, and a tear slipped from her eye, but the Dead King was _right in her face_ so she couldn't hide it.

"Hey hey, not so bad," said the Dead King, softly, tilting her head this-way and that. "Wouldn't have died from this one. Just _might_ have died. Like 30% chance. Your skin's almost fully healed, so I'll just scarify it or whatever the fuck, but the problem's your eye. It kinda rotted out. Real nasty shit, could go right to your brain. Doctor Dave's gonna have to remove it. Cool?"

Vriska glanced at Terezi, who nodded. More tears slipped out of Vriska's eye. She wished they would stop. "Cool," she said, trying to sound strong.

He pressed his thumb to her eye. Vriska felt nothing but a weight lifting, her head clearing up. Kind of like blowing her nose when she was stuffy. The feeling spread across her face, and she felt lighter, and less sticky, but not any less scared. He drew back. She flexed her mouth back and forth-- it didn't hurt anymore. No soreness up there either. It felt a little numb though, like some of her nerves were shot. And she couldn't figure out if she was blinking her empty socket or not. Tears slid down her face in a steady stream, for reasons unbeknownst to her.

The Dead King took her arm, and unwound the mounds of cloth Vriska wrapped over it in an attempt to hide the smell. Vriska couldn't look at the Dead King, or at herself. She turned her head into the crook of her working arm, and hid her tears there.

He touched the black skin on her palm, and it felt so full of water weight that she thought her arm was going to explode in a gross-ass burst of fluid. "Gotta take the whole hand, almost to the elbow," he said, with no jokes this time.

She tensed all over, waiting for the sting of it, for a hard amputation, for the feeling of him touching her to go away. She waited to scream. It never came.

She still felt heavy, like he was poking her in the saturated spots, when he said, "All done."

She jerked her head up. He didn't have his hands on her anymore. She stared at the perfectly smooth, round, brown curve where her forearm was. It felt exactly like she still had engorged fingers, and a hand that hurt, and she gave them a wiggle in her head but nothing moved in front of her.

The tears didn’t stop. She missed her arm _so bad_ already. She didn’t know what she’d do without it. She didn’t know how she’d go on, on this stupid island, with all this stupid work and hurt and pain.

"Aw, man, I hate it when I make kids cry," sighed the Dead King. He spread his arms apart. "C'mere lady, Death'll give you a big embrace. Heard it's pretty good."

Vriska felt so cold, like her insides all emptied out and there was nothing left in her heart, that she didn't care if the Dead King was trying to trick her into kicking the bucket. She took the hug. He was warm, like Terezi was when they hugged each other, except there was a lot more of him than of her so it felt kind of… comforting. Like a blanket.

Tiredness and sickness seeped into her, with her adrenaline gone. She couldn’t see anything outside of his black cloak, so she shut her eye, and let herself cry. Nobody could see her hidden away like this, anyway.

It took Terezi a while to speak. "If I give you my other eye, will you take us off this island?"

The Dead King did not respond, for a long time. She had the vague sense he was scanning his weirdo future fate threads or whatever. Vriska's fever made it take fucking forever, the second hand ticking by loud in her head. It took her way, way, _way_ too long to realize that it was the Dead King's heart against her ear, thumping at a perfect 60 beats per minute.

"Sure thing, TZ," he murmured, and shifted Vriska in his arms. She leaned against his shoulder and watched as he reached out and placed his thumb over Terezi's remaining eye.

Vriska could see the fear Terezi tried to hide. He took her second eye, the same way he took the first. Her lids fluttered, over empty sockets. She pressed her lips tight together, trying to take in the full blindness.

The Dead King scooped Terezi into his free arm, and stood up with both of them in tow. Vriska didn’t think his skinny arms could hold two girls, but she was too sick to make fun of him for it. He took a step, and their world plunged into a freefall of darkness. He guided them through a pitch black void of nothing.

“I’m taking you to this far away, rich as hell port city called Prospit where you’ll thrive. Where there’s plenty to steal from. You two are going to be some vile, sociopathic little shits that cause a lot of chaos,” said the Dead King, in the dark. Vriska thought he meant it as an insult, until he said quietly, dripping with a sort of sentimentality Vriska never heard in her life, "My people. Welcome to the family. I’m so glad you called for me. It would have been such a fuckin' shame if you were lost to us, loves."

Vriska didn’t know she was craving unconditional love so bad, and she didn’t know how to handle the glowing feeling in her chest. It threatened to overtake her, the thought of being precious to an actual literal god who didn’t want to shame her for her mom or her body or her actions. She nestled against his shoulder. He smelled clean. “Are there going to be a bunch of assholes there telling us what to do?”

“You will never have to do what you’re told, ever again.”

He brought them into the light. The sun was about to rise. They stood on the sea wall of a bustling port city, the buildings gold and glimmering in front of them. The morning markets were about to open, and through an alley, Vriska could see shopkeepers setting up stalls of fresh vegetables. No one was in their immediate area— a long, stone boardwalk that lined the ocean.

He set them down on the sea wall, so their legs dangled off the side. They stared at the horizon with their empty eyes. The empty sea stared back. The tip of the sun peeked orange and pink above the waves. It smelled of salt and city and life.

The Dead King floated down, in front of them and past the sea wall, so it looked like he was standing stick straight while remaining exactly eye level with them. His hat still covered his face. Vriska wondered what he looked like, under all those piles of fancy clothes.

“Before you leave, coolking,” said Terezi, her voice shaky. “I’d like to make another two requests. As you’ve taken another two limbs and all, you owe us!”

The Dead King lifted his chin just enough so they could see him smile. “Clever. I dig it. What’ll it be?”

“I want two new eyes. Ones that work, this time!”

"Yeah, can't do that," said the Dead King, immediately. "There's this wild thing called organ transplant rejection that I can't magic away. But I can give you something else."

He pressed his hand over her face. Kept it there for a sec. When he lifted his palm, and Terezi opened her eyes, her sockets were filled with these pure red, veiny balls. Like her lids got turned inside out or something. She blinked a few times, jerking her head around like an owl, and her lips parted with awe.

“It’s just little slice of what I see,” clarified the Dead King. “Not the whole pie, just like, a tiny fraction of it. So you’ll always feel where things are going to be in the next couple seconds.”

The sea wind brushed against Vriska’s skin like someone petting her to sleep. It smelled different than her island, it smelled like a real city. A real adventure. A whole whirlwind of emotions fluttered through Vriska’s chest, and the idea of a new place and a new her hadn’t really sunk in yet. She was just tired, and relieved she was going to live. But she did not forget her want for revenge.

"What happens to the Mothers?" Vriska asked the Dead King.

"Probability says they'll live long, happy lives. Go to their gods’ heaven for being so pious. You’ll never see them again."

No revenge. They did all these terrible things to her and Terezi and those bitches would probably get rewarded for it. Vriska clenched her fist in her sweat-starched, ratty dress.

"That's not fair..." whispered Vriska. Then, louder, “That’s not fair!”

"You're right," said the Dead King, with an unreadable tone. "It's not fair."

Rage built up in Vriska, too big for her body. “I’ll give you my other arm if you kill them, painfully. And make a big show of it.”

The Dead King did nothing. He stayed perfectly still, and watched her. Terezi watched her too, frowning, but didn’t stop her.

“Is that not enough!?” shouted Vriska. “Take my legs then! Everything! Take my soul, my whole body, Dead King, I don’t think you fucking understand, every Mother fucker on that island _has to die.”_

“Nah,” said the Dead King, shrugging. Vriska opened her mouth to continue screaming, but the Dead King clapped his hand over her lips. She was so shocked she didn’t fight back. 

He nodded to the both of them, like a parting bow, and said to them, "May we not meet again for a long, long time."

He removed his hand from Vriska, gave them a casual salute, threw back his cape and jammed his hands into his pockets, then fell backwards into the ocean below. No splash, no ripples. He vanished beneath the waves.

Vriska smacked her hand to her forehead, and dragged it down her face in frustration. She felt all this bumpy scar tissue, and that he sealed her bum eye shut. She hoped she looked _super_ badass.

It felt like her fever broke, but she was still weak as hell. She collapsed against Terezi, slid down her shoulder, and rested her head in Terezi’s lap. Terezi placed her hand gently on Vriska’s scarred skin. The sun came up, and Vriska thought it was just as beautiful with only one eye. She wondered what Terezi was ‘seeing,’ but was too tired to ask. Terezi flicked Vriska’s ear.

"I liked him," said Terezi, happily. "Shit. Let's be pirates."

************

_My one regret is that I didn’t raze them to the ground_  
_I’d kill those bastards one by one, I’d gun the fuckers down_  
_How dare they tell some little girl she must do what she’s told_  
_If I find those handmaids I’ll deal my punishment eightfold_


	14. Morning Star

Dirk and Jake stewed in the oceanside silence after Vriska finished her song. Jake closed his eyes, listening for any further stanzas drifting in the wind. He folded his arms and frowned when he realized that was it.

“Well, that wasn’t a very satisfying conclusion,” said Jake, quiet enough so that Vriska wouldn’t hear him over the sounds of sailing, but not quiet enough to hide his pouty voice. “She never got her revenge! There was a sequel hook at the end but it didn’t go anywhere.”

“Are you… are you critiquing her life, dude?” said Dirk, totally appalled.

“Just the song,” said Jake, immediately wilting under Dirk’s glare. Jake chewed on his lip, then asked, “Did she go back? ‘Raze them to the ground?’”

“She went back,” said Dirk. “We all did, actually. But it had been too long. Turned out the whole cloister had to evacuate due to a combination of natural causes and some land acquisition contracts. There was no one left to take revenge on.”

“Oh,” said Jake, and blinked at Dirk. His pout crumpled into something genuine. “That’s even less satisfying.”

Dirk gripped the steering stick, forcing it straight when an errant wave tried to tug on the rudder. Jake stared at the pile of rope he was braiding, thoughtful. He set it in his lap, and quirked his head towards Dirk.

“Hey Dirk. I want to tell you something,” he said, quietly, like he still didn’t want Vriska to hear. “Even though I'm not keen on all this fucking work, it's... nice to be around all of you. Don't get me wrong, you're still a bunch of deranged psychopaths who don't fit that 'scallywag with a heart of gold' trope. But by jove, you're a lovable bunch, and are surprisingly kind to a visitor in your home."

That came out of nowhere. But it was a nice sentiment. Dirk shrugged. "What can I say, we like misfits."

"I'm not a misfit," Jake corrected, quick and stern. Dirk wanted to retort, but Jake continued on. "Anywho, the one exception to this is Miss Serket off the rail there, who has been nothing but mean and nasty to me! I don't understand why you let that bitchy broad boss you around when you're _so_ much more capable than her."

Dirk tensed around the steering stick, offended to the core. He forced himself to lose his anger, to rationalize it instead of firing back immediately. Jake had a point. He should do his best to address it.

He raised his eyebrow. "She's my captain. You're right that she's pretty fucking mean and nasty, like she _really could_ be the perfect captain if she improved herself a little, but I respect her anyway. Her tactics are genuinely solid and more creative than the dry shit I'd spend five times as long to come up with, and I don't feel afraid to argue with her if I disagree. We may fight and dunk on each other and poison the shit out of one another, but at the end of the day she's got my back when it counts. And I have hers."

Jake glowered. “Are you certain?”

"Fifteen years we've been together, dude," said Dirk. “She’s my friend.”

Jake didn’t reply, and Dirk didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he twisted himself over the back rail and yelled, “Hey, Vriska, want me to get you up?”

“Uh…” called Vriska, in reply. “Maybe!”

Dirk gestured at the steering stick, for Jake to come hold it steady. He waited until Jake had a firm stance and an even firmer grip before he let go. He ignored Jake’s “Hot cross fucking buns this is _heavy-”_ and folded himself over the stern to extend his arms towards his captain. She sat in the window well, staring off at the blue horizon. She grinned at Dirk when she noticed him, and mirrored his reach. They gripped one another around the forearms, and Vriska was careful not to get her hook in his skin. He pulled her up, in a way he’d done probably about a thousand fucking times by now, and set her on the deck near Jake. She straightened her coat, tipped her big captain’s hat to Dirk, and then strolled down towards the bow like she owned the place (she did own the place).

Dirk took the till back from Jake immediately. Jake looked like he was about to get a hemorrhoid from how hard he was straining to keep the thing straight.

Time passed. Jake got better at sewing, braiding, pulling, hauling. He picked up guitar insanely fast, with those dexterous fingers. He started playing cards with Karkat and Roxy and Feferi, who all really fuckin’ loved the guy. He stopped messing up so much when Aradia taught him new surgeon skills. Dirk brought out his favorite fantasy novels, and they read them together in Jake’s hammock. Jake’s chart focused and changed, getting closer and closer to their mysterious destination. 

The only minutely interesting event that happened in the following weeks was Jake unlocking a new power. Feferi misplaced the deck of cards somewhere topside; couldn’t find it for the life of her. Asked Jake if he’d seen it, he said, “No clue!” and one of those silver, glowing Star King arrows popped up on deck, pointing at a pile of discarded rope. Feferi found the deck of cards beneath. 

The crew was so collectively hyped about this that they spent the next half hour ignoring every chore and asking Jake to point out random things to them on deck. Glowing arrows popped up over the sails, the lifeboat, Equius, Sollux’s dick, whatever they asked for. Apparently Jake could do it on command. He didn’t stop grinning for five hours.

One afternoon, Dirk caught Jake staring at his tattoo again, when they were scrubbing the deck together on their hands and knees. Dirk was fisting a bucket of dirty, soapy water when he asked, “Do you want one?”

“Hmm?” said Jake, forcing eye contact with Dirk. “Oh, no! In my country, only criminals have tattoos.”

“Cool,” said Dirk, flattered. He wrung out the excess water into the bucket. “Didn’t answer my question though. If you had to have a tattoo, what would you get?”

Jake frowned, and stopped scrubbing the wooden boards, thinking about it. “I’m not sure. But it would have to be somewhere I could hide it, and with my profession that is tricky business! Perhaps I could get a small one, on the front of my ankle.”

Dirk didn’t know why Jake’s ankles were hideable when engaged in full frontal nudity, but then he remembered the black choker/anklet set Jake came with. “Shit, yeah. What were those anklets for, anyway?”

"Symbols of what I do. It's traditional to wear them if you're of noble blood and choosing to indulge in the intrigues of the flesh," said Jake. He sloshed his dirty rag into the bucket. "They signify that the bearer is good to ram-a-jam without any fear of mucking up the political status quo. For example, if I'm irresponsible and I accidentally knock up some poor gal, the lad that pops out has no right to any status or any of my assets!"

Disgust started to curl in Dirk's throat. He couldn't identify why this was, like this should have been totally gucci with his ethics. It was just a bad gut feeling about Jake's whole career choice. He focused on scrubbing harder. 

"So why do sex work at all?" said Dirk, as nonchalantly as he could manage. "You're a prince. Can't you sit around and get hand-fed grapes all day and do whatever you want?"

"Because dipping the wick is the only thing I can do well," said Jake, happily. "Even though I'm the oldest, I'm not fit to rule or perform any other mentally strenuous tasks, so I help out the politics sphere by using my natural talents! My clients are exclusively important persons of interest, you see. And I'm a hot ticket item."

Oh, fuck, so he does backroom information gathering intrigue shit? That's some secret spy assassin type job, is what it is. Dirk meant it when he said, "That's fuckin’ neat."

Jake beamed, proud. "Thanks!"

Despite the cool spy intrigue vibe, the queasiness in Dirk's stomach didn't dissipate. He continued cleaning as he mulled the feeling over.

What did his family think of his job? Dirk was so well traveled he'd seen prostitutes accepted on a scale ranging from ostracism to religious sacridity to 'okay honey, have fun, be safe, we love you!' He had a hard time believing the creme-de-la-creme of a ruler class would fall into the latter category, no matter how accepting the surrounding culture was. Even if Jake was so fucking sex-crazed he'd enthusiastically smash literally everyone who wanted to bone him, then why would he accept payment for it? As a prince, he should have had all his needs taken care of, and he could pursue sex just for the fun of it, or even because loved the intrigue gathering. Maybe there was some cultural gotcha Dirk wasn't understanding, like every ruling family had to dedicate their firstborn to the Lyustfyull Godyss of Dark Majyyks.

And who the fuck told him he wasn't fit to rule? Jake wasn't the sharpest sword in the bunch, nor was he particularly brave or commanding, but Dirk had seen _way_ worse people in power. For instance, Eridan used to be the most asinine noble class merchant, _Jake_ would be better at managing a business than fucking Eridan. Both of them could look the part but Jake at least had, like, an iota of charisma. Eridan was a way better sharpshooter and behind-the-scenes adviser than a public figure.

Dirk did not voice any of these thoughts, of course. Not because he was so focused on scrubbing, but because he was certain Jake would not respond to them.

That night, Dirk was on the till. Jake’s huge, shifting map was rolled out next to him, a small glass lantern set on top of it to prevent the wind from blustering the parchment into the sea. The chart said straight ‘til morn with no unexpected tide changes, Sollux confirmed the route, and John said there weren’t any storms or drafts ahead, so Dirk had the steering stick lashed down with ropes. He was basically just babysitting it, in case if anything snapped or went wrong.

He could relax without forcing his muscles to be nut-cracking tight all the fucking time. He sat against the stern and stared at the dappled paint splatter of stars that coated the black sky. Like a billion silver freckles. A few comets streaked through the galaxy in silver dashes. The warm sea wind blustered through his hair, and he felt the universe above him, and all was at peace. He never got tired of this.

The main hatch opened with a loud creak, and Jake heaved himself out. He got to his feet, shut it as quiet as he could, and bashfully waved at Dirk. Dirk waved back. Jake was in his cheongsam, and had Aradia’s guitar strapped to his back.

“What’s up, man?” asked Dirk, keeping his voice low. The only other crew member topside was Nepeta, who was in the crow’s nest on watch. She probably didn’t give a shit that Jake was up here, but he didn’t want to interrupt her quiet time. “Can’t sleep?”

Jake shook his head in the negative. “I wanted to play you a song. I finally learned a full bop!”

“Oh,” said Dirk, barely suppressing the delight that rose up in his chest. Gods, he was so fuckin’ proud of Jake. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Jake matched Dirk’s smile, then trotted over to Dirk’s spot. Jake unstrapped the guitar from himself before sitting down between Dirk’s spread legs. Dirk hooked his chin over Jake’s shoulder to watch him tune the guitar. Jake lost a lot of his softness over their journey, but he still felt wonderful to lean against.

"Are you gonna sing to me?" asked Dirk, mostly as a joke.

"I can barely hold a guitar, much less a tune," said Jake, happily. He twisted one of the screw things at the top of the guitar, and plucked the string until it sounded right. “You’ll just have to live with some acoustic jams.”

“Oh, how will I ever carry on. Cruel master, denying me lyricisms.”

Jake giggled, and once he was ready, he started to play.

* * *

_to the tune of the Scottish standard: Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomand. if you've never heard the lyrics before,[here's a popular version of the song with lyrics.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p0KQLJwMDzc) otherwise, read along with the acoustic version linked below!_

[[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZmxXVaa7-Y)] [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/3dwA6Wr1f7lPINcr8rJmC4)]

* * *

Dirk recognized the song immediately. A standard ballad, with a repetitive chorus and catchy tune. Everybody and their mother knew it: it was no surprise that Aradia taught it to Jake as baby’s first guitar song. Jake wasn’t half bad at it. He wasn’t just playing some shitty A-C-D-A chords over and over, he was actually playing the melody with some fancy fingers. And was doing that shit where he’d like… wiggle his finger to make the sound wave. That probably required some technique, right? Dirk didn’t know shit about guitars.

Whatever his skill level, it sounded nice. A warmth welled up in Dirk— he was so happy Jake was showing this to him and pulling it off. He didn’t know what to do with himself. So he started fuckin’ rapping along with the next chorus like an idiot.

“In the midst of the winds and the midst of the sea  
Where the moon shines bright on us pirates  
I'll never lose a damn thing with Jake next to me  
Since the dude's, like, a spotlight of guidance”

It was less rapping and more like speak-singing, admittedly. But Jake still enjoyed it.

"Oh, that's funny," said Jake, giggling. "Let me try."

Jake stopped playing for a bit, to gather his wits. Dirk was patient. He pressed his forehead to Jake’s temple, shut his eyes, felt the ocean current rock the boat in gentle waves. Jake started on the next chorus when he was ready.

“Um, I'll help you find keys, and I'll help you find socks  
And I'll always know where north is  
But don't ask me to fuck your… tender supple ass  
Or you'll die by drowning in Roxy's stew”

“Nice,” Dirk chuckled. Jake kept strumming his guitar.

“I’m not as good at rhyming as you are.”

“Rhyming’s for scrubs, anyway.”

Dirk picked up the next verse, leaning away from Jake so he could stare up at the clouds of silver stars above them.

“You’ve been succeeding, at hardcore pirate school  
Your skills are getting on par  
And that chart thing is so super goddamn cool  
You’re guiding us just like the north star”

“Oh!” laughed Jake. “Thanks! Um. I guess it’s my turn.” 

Jake stopped playing again. Dirk gave him time. He fuckin’ loved this, he could do this every night. Bullshitting with Jake and his guitar and nothing but the stars and sea around them. _Wow_ that was a nice fantasy.

“Aradia taught me some of the original lyrics…” he said, then continued plucking as he spoke his next verse. It could have been his imagination, but he thought Jake might have been blushing in the dim lantern light.

“I once met a pirate, on soft shady banks  
And black roses entwined where we laid  
But me and my true love were never meant to be  
‘Til I meet his soul in heaven’s glade”

Well… They were _sort of_ the original lyrics.

Dirk may have been one dense, anxious motherfucker, but he was not dumb. Jake changed the original phrase ‘young maid’ to ‘pirate.’ This was a deliberate act of seduction, and Dirk was _absolutely_ going to fall for it. His soul lit up like a bonfire. His heart grew ten fucking sizes. He wanted to kiss Jake more than anything in the world. Dirk nuzzled Jake’s cheek, trying to coax him to turn.

Jake did not turn. But his fingers faltered on the strings. He kept playing, so Dirk pulled direct from his glowing soul and whispered a limerick just for Jake.

“You’ve grown so damn much, you’ve been lovely on our crew  
Sad we’re not far from your homeland  
I’d give anything to spend more time with you  
To bask in the light of my morning star”

Holy shit. That was absolutely one of the top five smoothest things Dirk had ever done in his life.

The music abruptly stopped when Jake's fingers fumbled and he strummed out a loud, off key chord. He froze, like a mouse about to get caught and eaten by a cat. Dirk felt him flush, the heat radiating off his neck and cheeks.

Dirk had this. He could do this. He went in for the kill.

"Hey, morning star," whispered Dirk. "May I kiss you?"

“A-ah!” Jake stuttered, in one of those pleasurable vocal ways that made it sound like Dirk was leaving a hickey on him. He twisted, so the only thing Dirk could nuzzle was the back of his head. This was not the intended effect, and disappointment welled up in Dirk’s chest.

“Something wrong?” asked Dirk, gently rubbing Jake’s shoulder.

Dirk felt Jake shudder. “There’s no point in kissing if we can’t have sex.”

“Sure there is,” breathed Dirk. Jake’s hair smelled like grease and sweat and hard work, and Dirk _still_ liked it. “So we get a little hot under the belt, who cares? It feels good when you’re… kissing someone you like.”

Jake shivered, like Dirk was running his fingers up the back of Jake’s thighs. “It’s just… I… Um…”

Jake scooted out of Dirk’s lap, and Dirk felt the light in his heart go out like someone snuffed it with a candle damper. Jake swiveled to face Dirk, and stared at the deck. He had a serious frown on his face.

“I really prefer not to kiss those whom I engage in some beneath the sheets intimacy with,” said Jake, solemnly. “I feel like everything’s… out in the open with me, all the fucking time, and it’s nice to have something I control.”

Dirk tilted his head. His sense of dejection was replaced with a sense of concern. Jake continued on, still glaring at the floor.

“Besides, kisses should be grand, sweeping, romantic gestures! Not some thoughtless trifle you toss in whenever you want to have hanky panky. Kisses should be like in the story books, with buildup and romance and everything!”

A drop of sweat slid down the back of Dirk’s neck. If Jake didn’t consider what just happened romantic, then what the fuck _did_ he consider romantic? There was no way Dirk could top customized lyrical rapping. He was so boned.

Dirk hid his anxieties the best he could. “Alright, dude. No problem, whatever you want, it’s all good.”

Jake grinned, but did not move back into Dirk’s lap. “I know a bit of another song, if you want to hear it.”

Dirk smiled, shaky. “I’d love to.”

Jake played for another half hour, for just him and the wind and the sea (and Nepeta in the crow’s nest. She did Dirk a solid and didn’t interrupt). They did a little more improv rhyme mixing, and the warmth returned to Dirk’s chest. But Jake did not touch him the rest of the night.

Daydreams of Jake, of playing guitar in his lap, of refusing to be kissed, consumed him for the next twenty four hours. He could barely sleep. And when he had to have that goddamned fucking three way the next evening in Vriska’s shitty captains cabin, Jake was literally all he could think about. 

Well, when Dirk was having coherent thoughts, that is. Him and Vriska had to drink about three gallons of rum due to both their insanely jacked immune systems and their strong desire to not remember the festivities. And it still wasn’t enough for the sweet, sweet release of blackout drunkenness. But at least it was enough to have some fun. Spitballing crude sex jokes with Vriska was always pretty entertaining.

They laid there in the gruesome aftermath, crammed in Vriska’s single bed like a bunch of sardines. Gross, naked, sweaty, and drunk. John was wedged between them like a divorce pillow. He was laying on his back, taking up way more space than he needed to, his bony elbow shoved firmly in Dirk’s ripped abs. John smelled like fresh laundry, even when he wasn’t wearing anything. Dirk had his face smashed into the pillow beneath John’s neck, and was still obsessing over Jake playing guitar. That happiness in him, and those long fingers shifting across the strings…

“Hey, guys, who does Jake’s schedule?” rasped Dirk, more willing to voice his thoughts when imbibed. “Is it Karkat? I want to do his schedule. Like so fucking bad. I just want to schedule Jake. All day. I want him to… Learn things…”

“Ha ha, what?” said John, who may or may not have been tipsy. He certainly drank some, but Dirk didn’t know if shit like that affected the Kings.

"Hey, okay, so I was also thinking about that pathetic moron," Vriska slurred. "When we go march up to bitch boy's kingdom and save your sister, why don't you just, ohhhhhhhh I dunno........ Hide in the winds? Why get all risky with it?"

"Oh! I thought of that. But I want to see what Jake will do if I'm flesh and blood! If I appear before a kingdom theoretically hunting me!"

Dirk didn’t register the implications, but Vriska did. She cackled, too long and too loud. “What!? What does that even mean!? Do you think that _pathetic idiot_ has it in him to sell us out!? _Please!_ That delicate flower can’t even tie his own fucking shoes!”

“I dunno if he will! That’s why I wanna be solid when we do our super sneaky rescue mission. I want to see what happens!” 

"No way, dude, he’s not gonna betray us. He likes us," said Dirk, trying to concentrate. "Don't you see him light up around us? His smile gets all big and beautiful and genuine and he stops freaking out about how bad at shit he is and he stops trying to pose like his idea of perfection and-"

"Oh my gooooooood, get a room," said Vriska, pushing John so the domino effect pushed Dirk. He caught himself on the edge of the bed, then slammed himself against John's shoulder so Vriska got squished against the wall. She yelped. John giggled.

“Well, whatever! It’s not important yet,” said John, clapping his hands together. “Who’s up for round two?”

"I'm not drunk enough for that," said Dirk, and meant it.

Vriska laughed. "Well _I_ am."

Abruptly, John vanished into thin air. Vriska and Dirk had to make eye contact for an awkward two seconds across the John-shaped gap. The blanket at Vriska’s waist fluttered with a gust of wind. She flushed very dark, all over, and quickly twisted and shoved her face into her pillow to stifle whatever gross noises she was going to make. Dirk rolled his eyes. He sat up, grabbed his discarded kimono, and put it on.

"You two have fun," he said, wobbling to the ladder. It took him a few tries to catch the first rung with his hand. "I'm going to bed."

He thought he heard John's disembodied voice whisper, "Bye!" in his ear, but it coulda just been some drunken imaginings. With some effort, he climbed the ladder, opened the captain’s hatch, gave a wiggly salute to Equius, and got ready for bed. Brushed his teeth out with saltwater, cleaned up a bit, that kind of stuff. He climbed down the main hatch for a well deserved rest.

Jake’s hammock was the closest to the ladder, and it swung in the dark with the rolling waves. Moonlight crackled through the grates like the whites on a chessboard. The light shimmered against Jake’s gorgeous cheekbones, his eyelashes heavy with sleep. The memory of Jake in his lap overtook him, and his body ached for physicality after the sex, and he was drunk enough to skip over his inhibitions. He went to Jake’s hammock instead of his own.

Jake wasn’t surprised in the least by a warm body waking him up. Dirk tried not to think about why. Jake awoke with a gentle inhale, and accepted Dirk with a hug. Dirk laid on top of him, slotting against Jake like a sword entering its sheath. They tangled their legs together in a full embrace. It felt right, like this. 

“Oof,” Jake whispered. “You’re heavy.”

“No, I’m drunk,” Dirk replied.

Dirk shut his eyes, laid his head against Jake’s chest. Jake’s heart beat deep and steady like the ocean around them. Jake curled his fingers into Dirk’s hair, stroking him, combing out the knots. Sleep tugged at Dirk, warm and content. But something important nagged at his mind.

“Shit, fuck, I forgot,” said Dirk. “‘s it okay if I sleep here…?”

“Of course,” said Jake, like a lullaby.

“Great,” said Dirk, and nuzzled Jake’s chest. He didn’t smell like John at all, he smelled human and cozy and nice. “I like you a lot, man.”

"If you really liked me," said Jake, in a dark tone of voice. "You wouldn't want to have sex with me."

Dirk's tipsy brain couldn't process this correctly, and interpreted it as 'let's just be friends.' The last bastion of sober logic within him decided to lock Jake's comment away for further analysis, but Dirk's drunksona just rolled with it.

"Whatever you want, morning star," sighed Dirk, and readjusted so he could snuggle against Jake's shoulder.

Jake didn't say anything else. Sleep came quicker than normal, the sort of gentle sleep that came only in the arms of someone Dirk trusted. There were no dreams, or nightmares, just a deep quiet that permeated his very bones.

And when he woke, the pale light of the sunrise shimmering through the hatch, he felt no different. The peace of a good sleep echoed through his body, the contentment of resting a full night next to someone dear. He raised himself, to look at Jake, still asleep. Beautiful. Mouth parted, the gap of his teeth poking between his soft lips. Dirk wanted to see them shift into a smile. Jake’s silky hair pushed against the hammock, it was getting a little long. Dirk wanted to cut it for him. Jake’s palms laid open and vulnerable against the canvas. Dirk wanted to hold them. Jake breathed gentle and steady, in the early morning. 

It had been so long.

Dirk had been through enough of this shit to know the drill: develop crush on land dweller, commit passionate acts of lovemaking, get called away by the seas, wallow in anguish for a while, return to port and find out they got married or something while he was away, and engage in further bouts of excessive Strider manpain. If he was being honest with himself, he liked the cycle. He liked filling up journals with his angst and having a good excuse to mope around.

In other words, he didn't mind this crush on Jake. Doomed to end in tragedy, this would certainly be a memorable story he'd scrawl into his tear stained, micro-print diaries. And he couldn't even make tragic, passionate, farewell love to Jake or he'd get cursed forever. Gods, that was so... wonderfully maudlin.

He pushed back Jake’s bangs, to press a soft kiss to Jake’s forehead. A slow fire burned in his chest. Jake didn’t stir.

He climbed out of the hammock, quiet as he could. He had stuff to do. And he didn’t want to face down Jake feeling all sappy and mushy with a hangover.

Dirk didn’t have much time to wallow in his feelings, unfortunately. Sollux said they’d be there in three days. And Karkat would just _not let go_ of Jake’s schedule, all, “Fuck off, I put it on the goddamn gold star chore chart that Jake’s doing sail repair for the rest of the trip, and you know the goddamn gold star chore chart is _final!”_ Dirk knew the chore chart was final, and didn’t feel like getting in a battle of clipboards with Karkat over the next three days. Dirk and Jake would presumably have time together in Jake’s kingdom, anyway.

The night before they were due to arrive, John wanted to get down and dirty again. Dirk didn’t feel up to it, but agreed anyway since he thought it might help get his mind off Jake. But making out with John alone in the armchair in Vriska’s cabin, Dirk couldn’t get into it. He felt itchy. Uncomfortable. He felt like he didn't belong in his own skin and felt as dry as a desert.

He broke away from John. He was straddling John’s hips, fully clothed. John blinked up at him, concerned. 

"Hey, dude, I'm sorry, I..." said Dirk, looking anywhere but John’s eyes. "I can't have sex with you anymore. I'm too fuckin’ monogamous for this."

"Monogamous?" asked John, frowning. "Who are you with? I thought you guys didn't want to fuck each- oh. Oh!"

He clapped his hands to his cheeks, beamed, and his eyes sparkled. Dirk groaned.

"Awwwwwwww, you're in love with Jake! Awwwwwwww!" squealed John. "That's adorable, it's soooooooo cute when pirates fall in love with each other!"

"First off, I'm not in love, it's just a crush," said Dirk, offended. He stood up, and brushed down his kimono and hakama. "Secondly, he's not a pirate. He's not invested in the lifestyle, he's just tagging along."

"Ah, yeah, I guess I over exaggerated," said John, tapping his finger to his chin in a parody of a 'thinking' motion. "He's on the cusp, for sure. I've started to feel his heart, and he's definitely one of the Right People! A thief, a scoundrel, a _trickster."_

John's eyes lit up in a devilish sort of joy at the word 'trickster.' Dirk was less hyped about this than John was, and also less inclined to believe him. He found Jake intelligent and slippery in a thief-like way, but the dude was still... remarkably bumbling. "What's he steal, then?"

John reached up and poked Dirk in the chest. "Hearts, obviously. And secrets, I think? I don't know yet. Nothing physical, that's for sure."

Dirk frowned. He didn’t think that stealing intangible shit counted as pirating. John hopped up to his feet, happier than ever.

"Well, Dirk, it's been fun! I guess Vriska gets to be the exclusive recipient of my totally awesome dong," said John, grinning. He blew a kiss at Dirk, and Dirk fake-caught it. John giggled. "Hit me up again when he breaks your heart!"

"'When?'" Dirk repeated, quietly, but John already dissipated into the wind.

***********

The night they were due to sight land, all the crew gathered on deck. Feferi was up in the crow’s nest, but she hadn’t called anything. Dirk, Jake, Vriska, and Sollux loitered at the bow of the ship, peering around the jib sails in an attempt to spot a black mass in the night. There was nothing but the sea, in all directions.

Vriska snatched the chart from Sollux, tilted it around like she was trying to straighten a frame. The glowing compass rose swirled inside the map, the silver lines focused and retracted, and all pointed to their destination dead ahead, twenty sea miles out. But only the flat horizon stretched before them.

Vriska crumpled the map in her hands, stood on her tip toes, and pointed her hook at Jake’s throat. “If this was all a wild goose chase…” she began. 

Dirk took a step forward to pull her away, but Jake managed to hold his ground. “Hold your horses Captain! There’s a specific entry point we’ve got to glide through and we are not there yet! Let me provide some illumination!”

Jake screwed his eyes shut. Ahead of them, just one sea mile away, a glowing silver star popped into existence. The center of a compass rose, hovering above the waterline. It glimmered ahead of them, like a yawning portal. The _Black Diamond_ roared through the waves, and the star grew in size like the light at the end of a tunnel.

Vriska raised her eyebrow, then backed off of Jake. Jake took a breath, relieved. Dirk slid up next to him and put an arm on his shoulder, a comforting gesture, and definitely not an excuse to touch his newfound crush.

On cue, a strong gust of wind blustered through the deck, and John materialized near the bow. Just in time for the grand entrance. He was dressed in… what appeared to be his idea of average pirate costume. Baggy white shirt, black pants and boots, a red sash. One, just one, gold hoop earring. A weird bandanna in his veils’ colors. Vriska opened her mouth to comment on it, but the bowsprit pierced the star before she could dig up an inane insult.

It felt like passing through a giant bubble. Just a brief pop of a barrier against their skin, the scent of ozone, and they soared through the Star King’s obfuscation.

There was a simultaneous gasp from the crew, and an awestruck “Woah,” from John: there wasn’t a single star in the sky. Just a black void. And a gigantic full moon that shone with a grating, artificial white light, like the moon Dirk dreamed of with the Star King. It gave the crew long shadows, like they were standing on a beach at sunset.

Ahead of them spread a humongous dark landmass, growing all the way across the horizon. Dirk was expecting, like, an island or something, not whatever this was. This looked like an entire fucking continent. The silhouettes of mountains gleamed in the too-bright moon, sprawling hills of farmland rolled across the darkness, forests blossomed out at the very corners of their vision, and a port city rivaling the Prospit capital glowed before their boat as they journeyed on.

The firelights of civilization lit up the night, through arched windows and glass panels. It appeared as though the city was built on a hill and layered in tiers, the bottom crafted for the docks and slums, the middle for houses and homes and businesses, the top reserved for a towering monstrosity of a palace that Dirk couldn’t see the finer details of from twenty sea miles back. But he could see the port, the massive black ships that floated in the sprawl of boathouses and pontoons. The docks glowed with late-night activity. There was smoke pluming from the forges. Windmills rotated in the breeze, their energy pumping the bellows. It looked like a country ready to wage war.

_Everything_ was bigger than Dirk thought it’d be. Way bigger. He glanced at Vriska, but she just returned his look with a firm nod. A ‘we can take ‘em.’ He wasn’t so sure about that.

“Um,” said Jake, his voice shaking with fright. He stood before the whole crew and spread out his arms like a tour guide. His accent was unusually thick when he spoke. “Welcome to Aetria. This is our capital, and- and my home. La Ansephemine: The Floating City.”


	15. The Star King

Jake had no fucking idea where to park the boat, so they sailed to the first empty spot they sighted. The docks were permanent structures, lined with boards, rope rails, and white metal lanterns that lit up the water. A far cry from the shambles at the Velvet Court. It smelled like fire and irons here, instead of scum and villainy.

Evil, black boats floated around them in docks that sprawled like a spiderweb. These were some mean lookin' ships. There were large black galleons similar to the one Jake exploded, but most of them were speedy, sloop-like motherfuckers that were pitch black and dangerous. They were pointed and narrow like sharks, with big lancer sails and sharp guns lining the rails. Dirk was very proud of the _Black Diamond,_ but if his ship and these ships got in a fistfight? The _Black Diamond_ would lose every round.

A sizable crowd of sailors and dockworkers gathered where they moored. None of them helped dock the _Black Diamond,_ they all just gawked at the foreign visitors making port like they owned the place. With relief, Dirk noted that _nobody_ was as hot as Jake. They were all rather pale and dark haired, but Jake was apparently a shining star of hotness, even amongst a secretive lost continent. The fashion was fuckin’ weird for blue collar workers though— everything was military-grade hotpants, skirts, and jackets. Like what Jake’s sister was wearing, but with less boob window. 

Jake hid in the very back corner of the aft until the last possible moment. Nepeta slammed the boarding plank down, and eagerly gestured for him to come over. Dirk accompanied Jake to the plank, his hand pressed gently to the small of Jake’s back, so he didn’t have to do it alone.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd when Jake stood before them, and he suddenly ceased shaking beneath Dirk’s palm. All the attention on him soothed him like someone stilling a bell clapper. He stood straight and tall, and waved. He flashed a winning smile, like he’d never known the meaning of the word 'nervous.' “Moturn becochi! Se Il Ripato na Aetria kitrata.”

The crowd buckled in a continuous wave as the thirty observers all bent at the waist. A slight bow with arms spread wide, like a proto-curtsy. Jake opened his mouth to continue on, but was interrupted by someone bellowing at the end of the long stretch of dock that led to land. Dirk couldn’t see who it was in the far-off darkness, but it sounded like a woman.

“Oh fuck,” muttered Jake, startled. He stepped forward, then skipped down the boarding ramp onto the dock. The gawkers parted for him like a school of fish. Dirk followed, along with Vriska and John. The rest of the crew leaned against the starboard rail of the _Black Diamond_ and watched the commotion.

Jane and a few guards pushed her way through the malleable crowd, who couldn’t get out of her way fast enough. She looked almost exactly the same as she did at the Velvet Court, perhaps with a slightly different red-black-white color scheme. She spat some harsh command at the dockworkers, who all scrambled past her to presumably return to their late-night work. The pirates and Jane were left alone, facing one another.

Jane folded her arms, two burly leather-armored bodyguards framing her. Vriska also folded her arms, but since Dirk was the only vaguely threatening looking one in the John-Jake-Dirk-Vriska posse, this didn’t have the intimidating 2x showdown combo effect Vriska intended.

“Why are you home!?” Jake stuttered, shocked. “I thought you were out and about! I thought-”

Jane replied in her own language. She didn’t sound pissed, just tired, like she didn’t want to deal with Jake whatsoever. Dirk couldn’t read Jake’s reactions, he simply stood there and received her lecture. It didn’t take her very long to return to Common for a passive-aggressive jab at the pirates.

“And what did these imbeciles do to you?” she asked, then eyed Jake up and down. “You look like garbage. You stink. And you got fat.”

Dirk couldn’t help it: he snorted. That was such a fucking stupid and incorrect thing to say that not only did it make _him_ laugh, it also sent the entire crew within earshot into uproarious laughter. Vriska cackled, patted Jane on the shoulder, and said, “Ha ha, lady, your jokes could use some serious work, but I like ya.”

Jake smiled uncertainly, glancing back fondly at the crew. Jane brushed Vriska’s hand off her shoulder with utter disgust. Vriska immediately returned her hand to Jane’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I get it, you’re impatient! Straight to the point, I like it,” said Vriska, slapping on her best grin. Jane’s lip curled up even further. “So, let me tell you why a bunch of pirates showed up in your lovely little country. Beautiful country by the way. Love all the… forges. Could put a lot of irons in those fires.”

John facepalmed. Dirk took a shot at explaining what they were after. “We’ve returned your prince to your country at his behest. We’ve been promised a reward.”

Jake beamed at his sister, backing Dirk up. Dirk knew the grin was a lie, but damn, it looked pretty sincere.

“Oh?” asked Jane, sarcastically. She brushed Vriska’s hand off her shoulder again, then waggled a scolding finger at Jake. “So you’ve decided to grow up and come home? Face the consequences of your actions, for once in your life?”

“I figured we could shack them up for a week, and then give them a trunkfull or so of our gold reserves,” said Jake, artfully dodging the question. “Since Mother hoards enough of the stuff.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Certainly. However, we weren’t prepared for royal visitors tonight. Most of these ruffians will have to wait a night or two for accommodations. Which of you are the most important? I’ll acquire rooms in the palace for them, since I am certain Mother will want to meet the head honchos in the morning.”

“I’m the captain!” said Vriska, waving her hook around. “This here’s my first mate!”

Dirk saluted. Jane hyper-focused on the movement of his tattooed arm. He should cover that up before going into the city proper.

“And who’s that?” asked Jane, pointing at John.

Dirk was left speechless— he had no idea what to tell Jane. He was assuming John would play the ‘generic pirate,’ like a deckhand or something. What kind of role was important enough to accompany the first mate and the captain? Vriska had it covered.

"This is my husband," said Vriska, gesturing at herself and John. "He’s incredibly important to my mental health. Like, if I didn’t have him around all the time, I’d snap! We're super married."

"I don't see a ring."

Vriska took a large step forward so she was within breathing distance of Jane. Waving her hook around, she said, "Do you see a hand to wear a ring on, ableist bitch?"

Jane didn't move. She looked at Vriska like she was a dead bug squashed on the sole of a high heel. "I meant on him."

John rolled his eyes. "Of course not! I love my gentle, docile, ultra-feminine wife and don't want her to feel bad. It's solidarity!"

Jane blinked, slow, like she needed a couple seconds in utter darkness to process the idiocy in front of her. She sighed, resigned, and gestured for all of them to follow her.

Dirk made sure the crew had the night watch shifts covered before leaving, and also double checked that they were armed to the teeth and ready to set sail in case of emergency. Jane directed him and his friends to the end of the sprawling docks, where a carriage was waiting. This was one fancy-ass carriage. Entirely open, with black lacquer sides and red detail, set on huge wheels with white rims. Driven by three mean, black horses, and a guy in a mean, black outfit. He tipped his bicorn hat when they climbed in.

It comfortably sat four, so Jane and Jake were on one side, and John, Dirk, and Vriska were smashed together on the other. The neat cobblestone road clacked beneath the wheels as they spurred into motion. Dirk was bummed he was facing away from the horses.

The path was set on a steep incline, and they wound up the hill and away from the forges, windmills, and maritime buildings. Dirk got a better view once they were higher up. Sprawling out beside the docks were crumbling warehouses, dilapidated buildings made of rusty metal and damp wood. Dirk decided to arbitrarily label this the Warehouse District. Rundown, dark, scummy, and home to the worst of the worst. Probably the only place he would have fit in inside The Floating City.

The surroundings grew bougier as they traveled up the winding hill road, which flattened out on the second ‘tier’ of the city. They rattled past shuttered shops, the bright moonlight casting deep shadows on winding vines that grew along every arched doorframe. Narrow staircases were squished between buildings, leading to stacked mini-tiers nested within the larger tiers, like a thousand secret pathways. White clay houses and red stucco tiles and balcony gardens gave off an alarmingly quaint country vibe, but the lack of people outside made it eerie. There were no noises of late night parties, no jovial singing, no scuttling of rats. Only a few candles lit up a window here and there. Dirk figured all the wild ragers must be in some other district. 

They clacked up a steep, narrow alley, to the third tier. This level looked like a university, with open gardens and white belltowers and a grand building with doors that curved like keyholes. Windmills with white lattice blades twirled in the pale moonlight, pumping bellows in vine-covered storage sheds.

"Wow!" said Vriska, grinning past her ears. Jake jolted with surprise at the break in silence. "Suuuuuuuure can't help but notice that everything's wind powered!"

Dirk’s eye twitched. John nodded along happily. Jake flashed a very pained grin. Jane looked at Vriska like she just grew a third arm, and said, “What else is one supposed to power their research with?”

“Indentured servants,” said Dirk, as deadpan as possible.

“I dunno, I think wind works perfectly! You made a great choice in energy sources!” said John, beaming. Dirk tried his hardest not to facepalm.

Things only got fancier with the fourth and fifth tiers. Large stucco mansions behind black iron gates, gardens filled with humongous red flowers Dirk couldn’t identify, gold fountains featuring statues of beautiful men… Looking at all this opulence, Dirk was getting the urge to… steal stuff. Pillage and burn and shit. Vriska was getting twitchy too. She kept thwapping her knee with her hook.

The gargantuan square palace loomed like a mountain above them. The thing was a beast of a cube: this multi-story, engraved, eccentric piece of decadence. Giant, empty arches decorated the front face of it. Humongous red banners draped down the centers and flitted in the wind. Black balconies littered the upper levels. There was a dome at the top that reflected the moon. There were tall, thin white spires surrounding it like a crown, all connected to the main building by open air bridges. Through the long, grand windows, Dirk could see the shadows of staff doing busy-work in the late night.

It was more impressive when they finally arrived at the top tier. A few burly guards in clean uniforms opened large red gates for the carriage to clatter through. They arrived in a giant, sprawling, marble courtyard. Ahead of the carriage, the palace stood like a silent watcher. The ribbon-like banners beckoned them forth, draped in archways carved into the building from the fifth floor to the second floor. Jane seemed pleased with herself that the pirates were gawking at the spectacle. Jake was twisting his cheongsam into knots.

They hopped off the carriage in front of the grand entrance, a split marble staircase that spiraled around and up into well-lit gold doors. Two attendants opened them when they saw the prince and princess. Jane led the group, and they climbed up and into a grand hallway that was… fucking egregiously covered in gold. Gold chandeliers, gold suits of armor lining the walls, gold framed mirrors, two gold fireplaces in the back, and a red carpet. Vriska started getting _really_ twitchy. Dirk felt underdressed.

Jane swiveled on her heel, barked an order at some random group of servants. Most of them ran off, but one scampered over and greeted the pirates with a deep bow. Jane gestured at him.

“You’ll be shown to your rooms, and collected in the morning,” she said, tired. She took Jake by the elbow. “Now come on, let’s get you out of these horrid rags and-” She paused to groan and roll her eyes. “-Wake up mother.”

Jake wouldn’t be spending the night with the pirates. It was a foolish hope, but Dirk wanted Jake to be in _his_ room. To talk to Jake about his country, about where the Star King was in this huge city. And also to, you know, sleep with. 

Jake bit his lip. He glanced at Dirk, then back to Jane, and she began tugging him away. He looked panicked for a second, and blurted out, “I, wait, Jane, I want to-”

Jane was shocked at his backtalk, stopping dead in her tracks like he just shot her. Resistance was not a common occurrence, then. 

“What? You want to _what,_ Jake?” she snapped, patience clearly thinned out. “Don’t tell me you want to spend _more_ time with these disgusting people?”

Jake glanced down at his feet. Waited a few beats. It took him a while to stammer out a, “No. Sorry.”

It ached to watch Jane steamroll him to passivity. Jake was doing so well on the _Black Diamond._ While he still wasn't perfect, Dirk hoped that Jane wouldn't keep up the behavior and undo the minuscule amount of self-confidence Jake gained. But Dirk couldn't say shit about it, not without revealing he grew rather attached to Jake, which might draw suspicion. 

So he let Jake go. Jane dragged him off somewhere stage left, and Jake didn't look back at Dirk. His heart felt hollow when neither of them reached out to say goodbye to each other. Only John waved, but Jake didn't see it.

The attendant wordlessly took them to a walk-in closet room offset from the main entryway, which was filled with the most opulent cubbyholes Dirk had ever seen. Tons of shoes were stacked neatly inside the slots. Dirk was from a culture who did a similar "take off your shoes before going inside" thing, so fortunately they didn't have to play charades with the attendant for too long to get the hint. The attendants all wore velveteen flats, so Dirk wondered if a Floating City citizen was culturally expected to carry around an extra pair of indoor shoes wherever they went.

The attendant led the barefoot pirates down an equally grandiose hallway, then up four flights of egregiously beautiful stairs, then down a narrow hallway filled with mirrors, doors set in carved red frames, crystal chandeliers, extremely plush carpets, and tables loaded with shiny decorative trinkets. Vriska was vibrating with the sheer amount of willpower it took to suppress her urge to steal. Dirk wasn't immune to it either. Some baubles were difficult to resist. A mirrored jewelry box set on the golden endtable outside his room literally made him itchy-- that thing was worth a pretty penny, and it would fit _perfectly_ in his kimono sleeve.

Vriska and John were given a room right next to Dirk's. The attendant unlocked both doors with large golden keys, handed the keys to them, bowed deep, and left. Dirk said goodnight to his friends before entering his room and locking it behind him.

The room was small, but fuckin' plush. No candles were lit, but the moon shone bright through the huge lattice-paned glass doors that took up the entire back wall of the bedroom. They led out to a narrow black balcony that loomed over the slope of the glowing city.

There was a huge four poster feather bed-- no sheets, just gigantic white pillows and a thick down comforter that looked like the coziest shit in existence. There was a trunk at the foot of it, for storing clothes. There was small vanity set with various bejeweled beauty tools on a table against the side wall. Dirk ran the comb through his hair, then entirely on piratical instinct, stuffed it into his kimono sleeve. It took him a few seconds of anguished over-thinking to remove it and place it back with the set. He could steal the whole set later, before he left. He didn't want a bunch of gold jangling around on his person during a recon mission.

A door led into a personal bathroom. Dirk stood in the frame, saw the large clawfoot tub set on the tile, clasped his hands together, looked up towards the ceiling, and whispered a reverent, "Fuck yeah."

He lit some candles and fired that baby right up. This was one intense bathroom setup. Dirk was familiar with the ever-moving aqueducts at the Velvet Court, or mechanisms that required the user to manually pump the water flow in and out, but he'd heard only fabled tales of these tap devices referred to as 'indoor plumbing.' It was something that belonged to only the very top of the bourgeoisie pyramid, and something he could never steal.

Dirk wondered if the whole city had plumbing. The streets were too clean not to. If they did, that was the dopest fucking shit he'd ever heard.

He took full advantage of it. Turned on the tap and let it fill to the brim. The hot water smelled strongly of sulfur, even more than the baths at the Velvet Court, but some salts provided in a wicker bin next to the tub neutralized the scent. He climbed in, cleaned himself, and soaked.

Usually during precious moments of alone time he'd engage in furious masturbation, but he was too worried about the star of his latest furious masturbatory fantasies to actually jack off. He shouldn’t have just stood there. He should have said something. Something clever, to get Jake away from his sister and into Dirk’s room, but Dirk didn’t know what else he could have done. 

He thought about soaking in this nice clawfoot tub with Jake. It gave him all sorts of warm fuckin’ fuzzies. They _definitely_ could have managed to take a bath together without having sex, right?

Dirk drained the water when finished, then dug through the trunk in his bedroom for a towel and a pair of loose pajama pants. He thought he'd have a hard time falling asleep without the churn of the waves rocking him, but as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out like a light. He sank into the soft darkness like melting butter on toast.

********

A song stirred him. A lovely woman's voice hummed, muffled from behind a door. He opened his eyes to the moonlight still shimmering across his down comforter. Although he was happy staying in bed, the longing for the voice, the longing to _explore,_ overrode the desire to sleep. His heart ached with wanderlust. He stood up. He turned back, and saw his body still cozy in bed. He was dreaming.

He stepped through the glass balcony doors like a ghost. The Star King called for him, and he had to answer.

_to the tune of The Dreadnaught_

[[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKOQnimOKiY)] [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/6JkuGrDWMk2bPFaMK099Rc)]

* * *

Here's the tale of a goddess, a goddess and King,  
She's dreaming of the tale she's hoping to sing  
'Cross the whole giant world she's been wanting to go;  
She's missed her people so much, oh Dirk, let her go!

_(Chorus)_  
Come on down, down, follow me down

Oh, the Star King was captured once five hundred years back,  
Slighted by tricky buccaneers who sailed in ships black.  
I thought they were just pirates who needed my help,  
But they trapped me in bonds of blackened iron skelp.

_(Chorus)_

The shackles were made from order, rules, and law,  
Some bullshit science that kept me beneath their claw;  
They put me into sleep with their alchemy skills.  
Bound away in the darkness I’ve been forced to be still.

_(Chorus)_

I power their barrier that keeps the world at bay,  
I’ve done this in total darkness with no way to wake.  
I’m hooked up to all these nasty machines below,  
You just have to unplug me, oh Dirk, let me go!

_(Chorus)_

I’m happy for the chance to wake up thanks to Jake,  
I’ve gotten to see how my dear pirates have changed.  
But you’ve also got to take me out of his soul!  
Don’t fret over the ‘how,’ ‘cuz he definitely knows.

_(Chorus)_

Bless the _Black Diamond_ ship and all of her crew;  
And of course that includes my favorite thief, Jake, too!  
You’ve crushed his ivory tower, now you’ve got to SAVE HIIIIIIIIIIIIM,  
I believe in your courage, and your strength and your wit!

_(Chorus)_

| 

She took his hands, and helped him up to the balcony rail she stood on. A pathway of stars glistened before them mid-air, like a cobblestone road made with chunks of the milky way. She guided him to follow her along the winding path, and together they walked down the face of the palace, past the huge scarlet banners, past all the guest rooms with their black balconies. Thousands of stars glimmered beneath their feet. It was like walking on feather pillows. The sea breeze ruffled his hair, the city lights twinkled all along the tiered capital to the shore of the black ocean, and Dirk thrummed with the desire to follow her guidance.

She took him to the southwest corner of the palace, on the second floor. It looked like a plain old white wall, like nobody bothered to decorate this subtier architecture hidden in the back. The Star King held her thumbs and forefingers out towards the corner, making a square, and a window popped into existence so Dirk could see the room inside.

It looked like an old-school dungeon. Iron cuffs, weird strappy chairs, spiky instruments of torture, the whole shebang. Nobody was inside, and things looked pretty dusty. The two items of note were: 1. The deep black shackle set hanging on the wall, which were so dark they absorbed every beam of light that hit them, and 2. A totem set in a broken glass case in the back of the room. It was a medallion, with two snakes inside of it. One black, one white, eating each other. The glass was shattered around it, but the medallion was still neatly positioned on the stand. Like somebody returned it after a break-in.

The Star King closed the window to the room and gestured for Dirk to follow her further down the starry path. He happily obeyed.

Together they walked, above all the houses, down every tier in the city, until their path of stars ended at the lowest point. The Warehouse District, with the grungy, gray, rusty sheds that stretched out into the dock area. The Star King brought him lower, into a particular alleyway. She took his hand, and walked him to a two story warehouse.

The building was dilapidated and weathered as the surrounding area, but gave off vibes that it wasn’t just an ordinary storage shed. The main entrance had doors of iron, set firm in their frame, and were locked down with heavy chains and padlocks. It was a level of security usually undeserving of the docks area. Jade grinned, and eagerly gestured at it.

Dirk placed his hand on the door.  
  
---|---  
  
He was awoken by the morning sun, the call of seagulls, and an attendant rudely barging in to drag him to an audience with Jake's mother.


	16. Soleares for Guitar (Instrumental)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: this chapter has a picture of naked full-on titties RIGHT AWAY so if you're in a public place..... don't scroll down.
> 
> _mood music for this chapter: Soleares for Guitar_
> 
> [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/0P3xLoISDMLZh1p74CPvRM)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GXL0iaG9MA)]

“Hey kids.”

“Ma'am,” said Vriska, cake falling from her mouth. “Your nipples are, like, rock hard.”

"Is that a problem?" asked the Condescension.

"N-no?" John squeaked.

"Right fuckin' answer."

Gods, Dirk couldn’t look away. They were just… _right there._ Pointy. Staring at him. Double-pierced. What was the point of the excessive tit decor? Nobody else in this city had their tits out. What the fuck. What the _fuck._

"So I'm defs angling to give you a reward, after catching my kid and reeling him back in and all. Thanks for that. Appreciate it," said the Condesce, removing the cigar from her mouth and tapping the excess in the ash tray. Smoke billowed from her nostrils on exhale. The fumes smelled of cloves. "But we're kinda strapped for resources at the moment."

"Yeah, you look pretty destitute," said John, sarcastically. He wiped the cake off his face.

Dirk had no idea how Vriska and John were eating their early morning desserts. Nothing made him want to eat less than two perky tits ogling him. And the four guards with rifles in the corners of the room did nothing to encourage his appetite. He had the usual knives on his person, and Vriska was packing heat, but they’d need still John to cover for them if this was some sort of trap.

The Condescension leaned forward, opulent nipple necklaces swinging like a golden chandelier. This woman was fucking horrifying. Her accent was simultaneously worse and better than Jane's and Jake's. She had most of the sounds right, like she didn't do the little 'r' trill her children habitually performed, but she talked like Roxy on shrooms. She took a long drag of her cigar before continuing.

"Anyway, we’re trying to conserve shit ‘cuz we plan on going after Prospit and Derse and expandin' our resources or waterever. We've been studying up on 'em and our ships can cream the fuckers to a pulp. We're gonna wage an all out war."

Nice, more rich-ass ships to rob. Vriska nodded, thinking it over like it was a brilliant idea. "Oh cool," said John, sincerely. The Condesce was taken aback.

"Wow, uh, I was expecting like, shock and awe or somefin. You guys really don't care, do you? Just that morally bankrupt, huh?"

"Yeah," said John, Dirk, and Vriska at the exact same time. "We're pirates."

The Condesce appeared to respect this deeply. She nodded, and leaned back against the couch, spreading her arms across the length of it. "I gotta say, I was totally gonna krill ya, but you're all fuckin' rad. Eat up, kids." 

Vriska raised an eyebrow, gesturing with her hook. Cake flew off it as she flailed around. “Honestly, lady, you’re pretty rad too, and your breasts are beautiful, like the ocean. But we did not spend two horrendous months with your whiny bitch boy manchild to leave without a reward!”

“And might I remind you that we’re violent, bloodthirsty, handsome tattooed criminals?” said Dirk, finally tearing his eyes away from those goddamn nipples. “We have no qualms against stealing what we deserve.”

John gestured at Dirk with his fork. He talked cheerfully around a mouthful of cake. “Dirk kidnapped four of your attendants and is holding them hostage as we speak. If you don’t give us a reward, he’ll systematically murder all of them!”

“It’s true,” said Dirk, deadpan, pulling out a monogrammed chain watch he accidentally pickpocketed from a passing attendant earlier this morning. He twirled it casually around his finger. “I’m ten different levels of psychopath and the only thing that can sate my desire to kill is heaps of gold.”

“So load us up with something nice, ma’am, or prepare to die!” said Vriska, grinning. She leaned back between Dirk and John, trying to make the DirkJohnVris sandwich look remotely threatening. After making the alternative look terrible, she then pitched the deal they _really_ wanted to cut— to buy a few free days on Aetria. “Or at least show me and my crew a good time before we leave.”

The Condescension took another draw of her cigar, then laughed. Smoke plumed from the gap in her front teeth. “A good time? C’mon. There’s no fuckin’ way you didn’t have plenty of that with my slutty son. Do you know how much two months woulda cost ya? Way more gold than your ship would fit, that’s for sure.”

A grotesque shiver rolled down Dirk’s spine. Every hair on his body stood on end, skeeved right the hell out.

“Of course we didn’t mess with Jake…” said John, confused.

Vriska rolled her eye. “Look, ma’am, you misunderstand our type of ‘fun.’ We’re not so big on orgies with long legged pretty boys, we’re big on like, parties and drinking and stuff.”

“A’ight, I see how it is. Shame you wasted him,” said the Condesce, shrugging. "Kid can't do anything right, 'cept make tea and fuck bitches."

"That’s exactly what I said! Damn, you’re cool! You and I are on the same wavelength," said Vriska, happily shoving more cake in her mouth. She sneezed it out when both John and Dirk elbowed her in the sides. Her cake ruined, she sadly set her plate on the table. She licked the remnants of frosting from her hook.

"Did you at least try his tea? I'll have him bring in a tray," said the Condesce. She twisted around to yell something in her language at one of the guards. He scampered off to go get Jake.

Dirk’s roiling revulsion subsided somewhat, and he realized there was something logically incorrect about Her Imperious Condescension’s assumption. Why would they bang Jake if he cursed the people he slept with? Did she not know he had the Star King’s powers?

That seemed ridiculous, and also didn’t jive with Jake’s story. _Jane_ knew about the bad-luck-fuck. Why wouldn’t their mother know too? Maybe this was some kind of elaborate double bluff.

The Condesce’s tit jewelry jangled when she twisted back around. Dirk tore his eyes away. “But, shell yeah, you can stick around and party or whatevs,” she said. “There’s a holiday ball tonight. I’ll get ya outfitted. Bet y’all are a riot at parties, and boy, are some of these things a bore.”

“Yup. We’re a riot!” chirped John.

“We bring our own booze, fun, drugs, and life-or-death duels,” said Vriska.

“I’m literally loaded with cocaine,” said Dirk. “There’s some shoved in my asshole right now.”

The Condescension started slow clapping, impressed. He could not believe they won her over. Usually the only way they won people over involved a lot of hot knives going in a lot of different holes. Dirk was struck with an idea, one that was a little greedy, and might get Jake in his room for the next couple nights.

“If we’re sticking around for a while,” said Dirk, as commanding as he could manage. “I’d like to check out what I missed with Jake.”

“Hell nah, you don’t get to touch him. You missed your chance, bucko. He’s got shit to do,” said the Condesce. "His work is very important."

"Why is it so important," asked Dirk, disgust curling around his heart like tangled vines.

"How else am I gonna get uppity people to do what I want?"

The door in the back of the room opened, and Jake came through carrying a large, square, silver tea tray. An elaborate white and gold china set was laid out on top. He wore a red skirt with a bustle, a tight shirt that showed off the lines of his perfect chest, and a corset. He was barefoot. He was smiling like he’d never been more content in his life. The black choker and anklets were sewn back onto him, tight as iron shackles.

He did not say a word to them. He did not acknowledge the presence of anyone in that room. Just beamed, glided over to the side of the room where there was a small endtable set against the wall, and placed the tray down there. He poured cups of tea for everyone, a mask of happy dissociation and servitude plastered over his entire body. Jake had served the crew of the _Black Diamond_ before, but the context made everything _excruciatingly uncomfortable._ Dirk saw Jake with the tea tray and felt like he wanted to scratch his own skin off.

“He’s in deep shit,” said the Condesce, like Jake wasn’t in the room. “I mean, he’s an idiot, but this is some next level, peak tier idiocy.”

Jake didn’t even react. He turned, smiling like a perfect porcelain doll, and carried two cups of tea over, which he set on the table in front of Dirk and the Condescension. Dirk's head drew back into his neck so he had roughly six chins. John's eyes were squinted like he was trying to comprehend something placed very far away from him. Vriska looked like she was doing calculus equations in her head, trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture.

“And Janey told me he accidentally blew up one of my galleons?” the Condesce continued, not looking at Jake. “Kid doesn’t even feel bad about it, like some kind of freaky sociopath.”

“Okay, yeah, that is super weird,” said John, setting the rest of his cake on the table so he could take the teacup and saucer Jake handed him. _Really_ not helping, John.

Jake served Vriska last, setting down a teacup in front of her. She plucked it off the saucer, and brought it to her mouth. Oddly, she seemed hesitant about it.

The Condesce waved her hand towards her son. “’Kay, great, get outta here and leave the adults to chat about adult stuff.”

Jake kept smiling. Dirk had no idea what the fuck to do. He was paralyzed by disgust, revulsion, and a deep sadness. And they won this lady over, right? They couldn’t risk anything. He just had to keep his lips zipped until they rescued the Star King and got Jake the fuck outta dodge.

Jake unloaded the teapot and sugar and cream on the table in front of them. Vriska sipped her tea, watching Jake with a slit eye. He grabbed the silver tray, brought it to his chest, and made a movement to leave as complacently as he came. But he paused. Turned towards his mother. His knuckles turned white around the silver handles.

"Um, mother, might I ask... um..."

"What, you gettin' snippy?" said the Condesce. She took another draw of her cigar, then blew out a puff of smoke. "Do what you're told."

Vriska froze.

Dirk watched as Vriska’s entire perception of the world changed in a single cold, harsh moment. Everything slid into place. The puzzle of Jake English finally fit together in her mind, and she saw the picture for what it was. Her eyes widened, big as the eyes on a trapped animal. She looked at Jake, then at the Condesce, and then at Jake again, and her mouth parted. And for a very rare moment, Vriska was afraid.

Jake wilted, and did not say anything more to his mother. Vriska watched him retreat, and her fear twisted into something dark, and the shadows of the room lined her harsh expression. She clasped her hand around the teacup. Dirk, John, and Jake all jolted with surprise when she crushed the china and it shattered in a loud burst of ceramics. Porcelain and spatters of tea flew everywhere. Vriska shot her gaze back to the Condesce, who was gaping at her.

"Say that to him again, bitch," rasped Vriska.

"Excuse me," said the Condesce, curling her lip.

"I said. Say that to him again, _bitch._ I fucking _dare_ you."

The Condesce pointed at the broken china on the floor, scowled, and said, "You're totally paying hard cash money for that."

Vriska shook her hand free of the porcelain dust. There was a small cut on her palm. She placed her wet, tea-stained fingers on the underside of Dirk’s wrist, and slid them into his kimono sleeve.

Dirk knew Vriska very well, better than anyone else on this entire earth, and he knew exactly what she was going to do. Vriska would take a knife from him and murder the Condescension point blank, without any hesitation or concern for what would happen next. And although Dirk had an alarming amount of confidence in Vriska getting them out of any ridiculous situation she put them into, he had a hard time believing that they'd be able to flee a country they assassinated the ruler of without burning down the city, killing hundreds, and losing a couple limbs in the process. No thanks. These were the kinds of situations she needed him for.

Jake registered that Vriska was going for a knife. He took a bold step forward, probably to throw himself in front of his mother to protect her. Vriska burned with her own fucking fire, injustice stoking her fury, and literally nothing Jake could do would stop her. Nothing in the whole world could stop her from hunting what she wanted. ‘Cept Dirk Strider, that is.

He caught her thin wrist before she got fist deep in his sleeve, gripped her tight enough to hurt, and shot her a warning look. She ignored it, of course. Betrayal flashed through her eye, and she twisted around to get her prosthetic behind her back, to hook the pistol shoved in her belt. He could _not_ let her grab that gun.

"John," Dirk blurted out. "Your wife’s been overtaken by a case of the vapours."

"What." Vriska deadpanned, thrown off her groove.

John, bless his fucking heart, didn't miss a beat. He leaned right into the act, tossing the teacup and saucer onto the floor with a splash, clapping his hands to his face, and gasping, "Oh noooooooo! This is my own fault! I should have lavished attention on my docile porcelain doll of a perfect wifey wife to preserve her delicate health! Please, Dirk, you have to restrain her!"

Vriska gaped at John, open mouthed. With a motion he'd performed probably about a thousand times, Dirk swiftly rotated Vriska by the shoulders, forced her arms behind her back, scooped her up by the waist with one arm so her wrists were pinned against his side, and stood up, carrying her like a sack of potatoes. As the pièce de résistance, he clapped his free hand over her mouth. She flailed her legs around and kicked the couch and wiggled and yelled into his palm, but as per usual, she couldn't put a dent in Dirk fucking Strider. The Vriska Containment Procedures were pulled off without a hitch.

"My apologies," said Dirk, holding Vriska as still as possible. He bowed his head towards the Condescension, who looked delighted by the whole show. "My captain suffers from, uh, hey, John, what’s the name of her horrible disease again?”

John narrowed his eyes at his cake plate. “Vanilla lemon syndrome.”

"Mmmph!?" said Vriska, appalled. 

“Yeah, a tragic dose of food poisoning gave her brain worms as a teenager and now, every day, at exactly 9:38AM on the dot, my captain will throw a tantrum,” said Dirk, utterly flat. “I’m sorry, I should have alerted you beforehand. You can put the price of the teacup on our bar tab, highness.” 

'What in the fresh fuck,' Jake mouthed at Dirk, confused. Dirk shrugged, secretly relieved that their antics cracked the mask of creepy, happy servitude that Jake plastered on.

“Ha ha, y’all are fuckin’ weird,” said the Condescension, clapping. “Can’t wait to have her throw a shitfit in public tonight! Sparks are gonna fly.”

“We aim to please, madam,” said Dirk, bowing again. Holy shit, he could not believe he pulled that off. This woman was an idiot. He suddenly found it easy to believe that Jake fell for his stupid fake death act back when they first met. “I hate to cut our morning meal short, but I have to put Captain Serket in her designated tantrum hole. If you would excuse us?”

The Condesce waved her hand, and said, “Excused. Catch ya later.”

She turned and said something to Jake in their language. He nodded, jolted back to his perfect posture, and left through the door in the back. Dirk and John followed him out, but Jake wasn’t waiting for them in the hallway outside the sunroom. Dirk had no time to feel disappointed, because Vriska started kicking up a storm. Her blows against his legs had as much violent impact as a childhood pillow fight.

An attendant escorted them back to their rooms, probably to make sure they didn’t run off. Dirk went into John and Vriska’s room, which was an exact mirror of his own. Someone made their bed when they were away. 

John locked the door when they were alone, but Dirk didn’t put Vriska down. He wanted some time with her, one-on-one, a captain to first mate talk. He wanted to make sure she’d stick to the plan past this point.

“Hey, John.”

“Hmm?”

“I know where the Star King is,” said Dirk, in a quiet tone. “She’s in some kind of warehouse down by the docks on the southwestern side, two floors, with a big out-of-place steel door facing the north. Would you Windy Thing down to the _Black Diamond_ and get my crew to start doing recon missions? Figure out where it is, that kind of shit. Have Karkat or Roxy plan ‘em.”

John grinned. “Why can’t I go get her right now?”

“They’ve got some kind of black steel shit that was able to contain your sister,” said Dirk, recalling Jade’s song. “I don’t know what else they can do with gods. Better not risk it until my crew scopes it out. They’re quick, so don’t worry.”

John saluted Dirk, and his lower body dissipated into the air. “You’re the boss!”

He vanished. The only sound in the room was Vriska’s muffled complaints behind Dirk’s palm. Carefully, he set her down on her feet. She whipped towards him, mad as hell, and slapped him on the arm. When this had no effect on Dirk, she slapped him across the face. It hurt a little more the second time.

"What is wrong with you!" she hollered. "Did you see what she's been doing to him? His whole life! Can you _imagine!?_ No wonder he's so useless and pathetic and wimpy all the time! Don't you know assholes like her _have to die!?"_

"We cannot murder a queen, Vriska," hissed Dirk. 

"Why not!? We've killed a queen before, just us ten versus a hundred of the best Velvet Court pirates, and we didn't even have John then!" she spat back. She shoved Dirk in the chest. "I bet you don't want to because you're into it! I bet you _like_ seeing your boy toy whipped like that, you disgusting freak! All bimbofied and brainwashed and serving you!"

"First off, the deranged scenario we just witnessed does _not_ qualify under any flavor of fetish I may or may not possess, secondly, fuck you for kinkshaming, thirdly, _no._ You're just trying to blow off the fact that I'm fucking right by undermining my claims with weird fetish shit."

"Big words from the guy who-"

"Captain! Look at me," said Dirk. He clapped his hands to her cheeks, pushed them together so her lips pursed, and yanked her head up so she had to stare him down. "We are not going to endanger ourselves, our crew, our ship, _two_ of the Kings, an entire country filled with innocent people, and _Jake himself_ just because of one awful woman we talked to for twenty minutes. Do you want Nepeta to die in the ensuing escape attempt!? Do you!?"

Vriska pouted, immediately cooling down a little. Through her squished lips, she grumbled, "No, I don't want Nepeta to die..."

"That's fuckin' right you don't want Nepeta to die," said Dirk. He let go of her face, and she did not back away. "We're going to stick to the plan. We grab the Star King, try our hardest not to arouse suspicion, steal Jake back, and hightail it out of here."

"But! But!" stammered Vriska, whining. "I wanna kill the Condesceeeeeeee! She made me empathize with Jaaaaaaaake! _Jaaaaaaaake!_ I don't want to empathize with Jake!"

"Them's the breaks," said Dirk. He paused, carefully choosing his next words. "But if you're insistent, maybe we can set a trap before we leave. I think it's been too long since we've tested our poisons on someone besides ourselves."

"Now that..." began Vriska, chewing the thought over. Her mouth split into her over-wide grin, slow and savory. "... Is way too subtle for us, and you know it."

Dirk smiled, and ruffled her hair. She batted his hand away, playfully. 

They both panicked when John popped into existence two inches away from them, saying, "Okay guys, Roxy's taking care of it! Ha ha, why are you screaming?"

Dirk almost missed the sound of knocking over Vriska hollering at John for being a tricky little shit. Dirk made a motion for them to quiet down, then answered the door. He opened it to a short, black haired attendant with a ponytail, in the red coattails of the female palace staff. She seemed nervous.

"Ato," said the attendant, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. "La pamo ampotra perfonto se pento vic.”

Dirk took the letter from her, and unsealed it. John and Vriska peered around Dirk’s shoulders to read it with him. In bad Common, probably written by one of the few attendants who spoke it, it demanded they go get outfitted for the summer holiday party the Condesce invited them to. Sure, Dirk could get fucking outfitted. Whatever bought more time for his crew to scope out the Star King.

“Ehhhhh,” said the attendant, moving her pointer finger across the line of them. “Atrichi…?”

None of them knew what the fuck she was asking, and all three stared vapidly at her. The attendant sighed, frustrated, and tugged on Dirk’s sleeve. Taking the hint, he waved goodbye to his friends, warned Vriska not to get up to any Antics, and followed the attendant’s pull. 

She led him to an entirely different part of the palace, all the way down to the first floor and in the back, near the elaborate torture corner Jade showed him in his dream. His destination was thankfully free of broken glass and black chains. He was presented with the much softer hideaway of a clothier. Red plush carpets, curtains, and couches were crammed in the cozy room, with a platform surrounded by three mirrors in the back where one could model clothing.

A side door led to the actual tailors shop, filled with work tables, equipment, hundreds of spools of thread, and cubbyholes stuffed with bolts of fabric. There was some type of mechanical sewing device with a pumping pedal Dirk had never seen before. Three tailors poked their heads out of the shop. The attendant left Dirk with them.

There was one tired middle aged woman in a slick three piece military getup with a fur collar, and two brunette mousy teenagers in dresses and aprons who were chewing on their lips and shuffling their feet and generally avoiding eye contact with Dirk. Probably 'cuz he was a scary pirate. Just wait until they saw his tattoos.

They chatted and bantered between themselves for a little, gesturing at Dirk as he stood there like an idiot. He should have tried to pick up some of Jake’s language on the trip instead of ignoring the language barrier like a dumbass. The older woman led him to the dressmaker’s platform, and the two teens pulled rolled measuring tapes from their apron pockets. The woman said something to them, then gestured for Dirk to pull his kimono down. 

Dirk did so, tugging off his sleeves so it hung loose at his waist. He stood, half naked, not particularly embarrassed. The two teen dudes— Dirk thought they were dudes, anyway, dresses seemed to be gender-regulated to the men in this country— immediately tore their eyes away from him. They started arguing about something, then played what looked like a bootleg game of Rock Paper Scissors. The loser sighed, put his tape measure away, and whipped out a notebook.

The winner measured Dirk’s shoulders, starting from the back. His hands trembled when he positioned Dirk to stand a certain way. His voice shook when he shouted numbers to the other guy, who dutifully wrote them down. It was deeply flattering to Dirk that he frightened the shit out of two foreign teens. This was a great fucking experience.

The kid circled around to the front, and lifted Dirk’s right arm. He drew the tape around Dirk’s bicep, tight, shouted out the measurement. He loosened the loop a little, struggled to make eye contact with Dirk, and asked, “Es pento efvicci apro decca?” He made a flexing pose with his arm, to demonstrate what he wanted.

Dirk flexed. The tape measure snapped in two. The kid went beet red, from head to toe.

The process took a full god dammed hour. Dirk didn’t know why the hell they needed so many numbers off him. The two guys did most of the measurements, but the woman performed the few that required Dirk to be fully nude. She made the kids leave the room for those. She took them all in a professional, detached manner, and also wasn’t surprised by the genital situation, which made Dirk think gender worked a bit differently in Jake’s country.

When they were done, and Dirk had his pants back on, another attendant whisked him away to get cleaned up. He was brought to a public bathing area, where a large, hearty woman scrubbed him down and washed his hair. She was pretty good at it, rivaling the designated scrubber-guy in his usual bathhouse at the Velvet Court. This lady didn’t give him a massage though, which was a bummer.

Somebody else styled his coif. Combed it out so there wasn’t any tangles, made it dry all silky smooth. Dirk was getting into this. It was all so fucking decadent, and Dirk loved being pampered. If Vriska was going through the same treatment, she was probably throwing a shitfit. His only hope was that John was in the same room with her and would contain her raging.

They gave him a _superb_ late lunch. Sparkling mead, a small plain salad, and two tiny birds doused in a gravy dark as chocolate. The fat sizzled on their crisp skin, the meat tasted thick and fine and fresh, with the tang of citrus permeating down to the bone. It was as rich as eating butter.

Dirk waited while the tailors had some sort of argument over designs. The two boys seemed to be begging the woman for a particular Look, and she eventually relented. What they settled on was a slinky red number that was so tight it had to be _sewn on_ to Dirk. Dresses weren’t really Dirk’s thing, but he figured, ‘when in Prospit, do as the Prospitians do.’ Apparently what they do is make draping scarlet silhouettes with no underclothes and slits cut all the way up the front of his thighs.

They also had to sew him into full coverage black sleeves, to hide the tattoos. Even with all three working on him, it took the whole rest of the day. Dirk wondered if his crew found out anything more about the Star King’s holding place yet.

He received a pair of high heels to wear. He was about to argue for a sensible pair of shoes, language barrier be damned, but he saw how they made his calves pop and, uh… nevermind. This was fine. The tailors nodded approvingly at the full outfit, and Dirk nodded gratefully back at them.

An attendant guided him to John and Vriska’s dressing room. Apparently they had a different set of tailors. After playing charades with the attendant for a couple minutes, Dirk determined that him, John, and Vriska were supposed to head down the southern hallway when they were ready to show up at the summer party. He dismissed the attendant and stepped into the room to be alone with his friends. 

John was sitting on one of the couches, wearing a golden, airy ballroom gown and red flats. Vriska was at the trifold mirror, admiring herself. Dirk didn’t blame her— she was in a cute white suit with tails, with an adorable red bow in her curled hair. A porcelain mask with a flower pattern covered her scarred face.

“Whoa, shit,” said Dirk. “Who brushed Vriska’s hair and how many eyes did they lose?”

“She was super into being pampered, actually! And never mind that!” said John, gasping at Dirk. “Who brushed _yours?_ You look great! Are you suuuuuuuure you wanna be monogamous?”

Dirk frowned, noticing something different between him and the others. “Why do I get the sexy tight one.”

“Because you’re hot, dude,” said John.

“Not as hot as me!” said Vriska, as a knee-jerk reaction. She tore herself away from her own reflection to give Dirk the up-and-down look. She said, wincing, like it was painful for her to say the words, “But you are a solid eight out of ten.”

“Thanks, babe,” said Dirk, nonchalantly. He took great joy in the steam coming out of her ears. “Hey, John, did you scope out what’s happening at the _Black Diamond?”_

“Roxy says there’s guards and a trip wire and stuff,” said John. “She’s having Nepeta keep watch on the shifts and seeing if anybody actually goes into the building. She’ll let me know the deets in the morning.” 

“Sweet deal,” said Dirk. He cracked his knuckles. “Guess we’re free to party it up tonight.”

Vriska swiveled away from the mirrors. She was beaming past her ears. Wow, she really did like getting all trussed up, huh? Dirk didn’t know she had it in her.

“Let's all play into Condy’s expectations, get some intel, and then stage a dramatic and awesome rescue when we're ready.” She flapped her left arm around as she spoke. They gave her a new prosthetic, a golden hand that didn’t seem to do much, but had fake metallic joints that locked into place if she flung her arm hard enough. “Nobody do anything weird! Clear?"

"Transparently," said Dirk. John nodded. Since they were in agreement, this meant that they were _all_ going to do something completely fucking weird.

Vriska tugged John up by the arm, then took Dirk’s as well, so she was sandwiched between her boys. Dirk opened the door for all of them, and they stepped out into the hallway. Ready to take names and fuck up some fancy parties.


	17. A qué niegas el delirio (Malagueñas)

The ballroom was on the main floor, towards the western side of the palace.

They arrived in the thick of the party. Dirk lost track of time in the windowless tailor’s room: the sun had long since set, and the small ballroom was packed. It reminded Dirk of the crowd at _Starlight’s End,_ except everyone was dressed nicer, spoke in a reasonable tone of voice, and there wasn’t danger of Kanaya slicing rowdy patrons in half.

The whole place was painted a deep, nighttime blue. Dark tile clacked beneath their feet. A starry sky was painted on the ceiling, constellations Dirk didn’t recognize lined in delicate white above them. Couches were arranged around the edges of the room, where people were sitting and chatting and sipping glasses of punch. There were cozy armchairs and pillows set up around a fireplace to the right. The back of the room had large glass doors that were open, to let in the seaside air. Floaty white curtains waved in the night breeze. Performers played odd music in the center of the room. Thousands of yellowed candles dripped from black iron chandeliers, from tall stands in the corners, from candelabras set in the middles of tables. The whole place glowed like a library after dark. 

Dirk saw the Condescension, her tits covered this time, but just barely. She was smoking her cigar in an armchair in the corner. There were a few fat, rich-looking merchant types in the couches around her, rubbing their arms like they were nervous. However, there was something more important to worry about.

The candelabras lit a buffet table on the very leftmost edge of the room. It was stuffed to the brim with pastries— of both the sweet and savory kind.

“Ooh!” gasped John. “Free food!”

Dirk and Vriska were inclined to agree. They all immediately barged through the dancefloor and stuffed their faces. Dirk hadn’t eaten dinner, so he resisted his sweet tooth and went straight for the meat pies. He leaned against the table with his friends, and managed to eat without dripping gravy all over his dress. Shit was _juicy._

There were a ton of couples dancing on the middle floor, moving with a style Dirk hadn't seen before. Chest-to-chest, cheek-to-cheek, the lead's arm looped around the follow's back and the follow with their arm all the way around the lead's shoulders. Some pairs held their partner's opposite hand, some of them let their free arms hang loose at their sides. There was a lot of swaying and spinning around in a dreamy manner. A funky guitar duo with a waifish wailing lady was performing something with a snappy rhythm. Dirk didn't know how anybody was dancing to this music. He couldn't figure out what the fuck the beat was supposed to be.

Once John was done with his cheese pasty, he beelined it to a group of giggling girls squished together on a blue couch near the glass doors. They were instantly enamored with him despite not understanding a single one of the bad pickup-line puns he immediately started broadcasting. Vriska raised her eyebrow. 

"Let's make sure John doesn't do anything stupid," said Dirk. He wasn't too worried: John was a big flirt, but he rarely acted on it. He just liked making friends. "We have to keep an eye on him so he doesn't float off somewhere terrible."

"Ugh, I hate babysitting. I’ll tell him not to be an idiot," grumbled Vriska. She choked down the rest of her raspberry tart, slammed the plate on the table where an attendant dutifully picked it up, and stomped away to supervise John.

Dirk took a glass of punch from some waiter handing it out. He took a sip. It was less punch and more straight vodka. Maybe it’d be enough to lower some barriers. He chugged it, and set the empty glass aside.

He scanned the party, for Jake. It didn’t take long to find him. Dude stood out like a diamond in a coal mine.

Jake was sitting all the way across the room, on one of the couches near the fireplace. Through the dancing couples, Dirk saw him sprawled out like a pinup next to a young, pretty woman in a purple uniform. She had a huge spread of diamonds draped across her decolletage. Despite the dim light, the blush on this woman’s face was obvious.

Jake wore a long sleeved black dress, with a gigantic bustle and skirt that fully swallowed his lower half. His waist was nipped tight with a golden corset, so his figure resembled a wasp. The puffy fur neckline was cut so low that Dirk could see those fucking nipple piercings if Jake moved a certain way. His legs were kicked up and poised along the length of the couch, so his bare feet and velvet-cuffed ankles tantalizingly peeked out. It looked like there was a slit cut up the entire length of the dress, in the middle, so if Jake pulled both layers aside he’d expose himself.

Easy access. Fucking _yuck._

Jake leaned towards the woman, to trail his finger down the curve of her shoulder, a patch of skin that the diamonds didn’t cover. His lids were heavy, with those confident bedroom eyes. The woman shuddered. Jake whispered something seductive to her. Dirk grit his teeth.

“Doesn’t it frustrate you?” 

Dirk jolted, jerking around to see Jane leaning against the table right next to him, folding her arms and pouting. She wore black as well, and the amount of cleavage she showed rivaled even Jake’s neckline. “I- uh, excuse me?” Dirk asked, startled.

“Look at him. A top tier _litgamella_ in the family and his potential is wasted, as per usual,” said Jane, gesturing at Jake. Jake was playing with the woman’s hands. “Only a day’s passed, and he’s back to following my mother’s orders without any hesitation. And they’re terrible orders! That diamond-clad woman doesn’t provide any value besides for being a wealthy heiress who can shell out for my brother’s body.”

The Condescension _ordered_ him to sex up this lady? Shit. 

The pieces slotted into place, the assumptions Dirk made began to shatter. Jake had _much_ less agency than Dirk thought. He was trained from day one to be a sex toy, huh? To provide profit to some shitty, sick familial machine. Only a trophy to be tossed around to the highest bidder. The prize at the meat raffle. Jake kissed the woman’s knuckles, and Dirk felt hollow.

“So he’s a bargaining chip,” he said, flat. “He doesn’t get to decide who he fucks.”

“Of course not, he’d mess things up if he had that sort of power,” said Jane. “But his talents should be expanded further. He’s excellent at getting people to say things, digging up secrets, and so forth! He’s wonderful at getting blackmail on political rivals! He can even poison his clients, if it’s necessary! It’s just terrible how mother treats him like dirt.”

Now that was more the spy-intrigue shit Dirk was thinking of when Jake described what he did. But Jane using Jake for her own gain didn’t fly with him. Still, he didn’t want to ruffle any feathers with the woman who was actively hunting a King in this very room. Trying to restrain his building anger, the kind of anger that made him want to drive knives into necks, he asked, “Why don’t you help him?”

Jane narrowed her eyes. “I intend to. I love my brother, and I have grown up _loathing_ seeing him pressed upon and underutilized.”

“How will you help him?”

"My mother's an idiot," said Jane. She clenched her fists at her sides. "She has no idea how to run a country. She’s nothing but a figurehead, and she likes it that way. But I want to change it."

Dirk raised an eyebrow. She didn’t say anything else. She glanced towards _Vriska,_ of all people, who was done talking to John and was currently shoving a cheese and ham pastry into her mouth a few yards down. Jane made a motion to leave.

Jake stood up, gave a somehow-sensual bow to the woman, and drifted along the edge of the ballroom towards his mother. Something didn’t make sense about him doing this _tonight._ Dirk grabbed Jane’s arm, catching her. She scoffed at him, and brushed him off.

"Wait,” said Dirk. “Why's your mom trying to pimp him out when he'll just curse these people?”

Jane rolled her eyes, and brushed Dirk’s arm away. "Mother doesn't know, obviously. And while I may disapprove, I don’t intend on narking on my brother’s theft, so I’d appreciate it if you keep a tight lip."

Theft?

That sure as hell contradicted Jake’s story that he was given these god powers because he ‘got the clap.’ What a dirty fucking liar. Dirk's heart fluttered.

"Bastard," he muttered. Jane raised her eyebrow. Dirk continued on in a normal tone of voice. "Why'd he steal the Star King's powers?"

"As far as I’m aware, it was to help him sneak out of our country and onto one of my ships,” Jane said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, exhausted with either the questioning or Jake’s antics. “But it’s guesswork. I haven’t gotten a clear answer out of him, as usual.”

“Is that so.”

Vriska waltzed over to the both of them, beaming out the ears. “Alright, John promised not to cheat on our solid matrimonial bond that is definitely real, utterly and totally real and romantic and 800% real, so we’re good.”

“Madam,” said Jane, ignoring everything Vriska just said. She extended her hand towards Vriska. “Would you like to dance?” 

Vriska's eye flashed to Jane, then down to her gigantic tits, then back up to Jane. "Yeah sure," answered Vriska.

Dirk watched, with barely constrained horror, as Jane and Vriska trekked off to the middle of the dance floor to assume the weird chest-to-chest pose. Vriska was _just_ tall enough so Jane’s cleavage wasn’t smashed in her face, which she looked disappointed about. Dirk regretfully tore his attention away from the probable shipwreck that would result from the two of them dancing, and directed it towards Jake.

He watched Jake bend over the Condescension, to talk with her about what he learned, how the diamond covered woman reacted, who to butter up next. He wondered if Jake was lying to her too.

He underestimated Jake again. Dude was bold enough to lie to the people who both brought him back to his country and the only people who could take him out. He was also bold enough to run away in the first place, come back, and jump right into the role that he probably worked very hard at to leave. Dirk remembered what the Star King said, that Jake placed all his value on his body, that he thought there was nothing worthwhile in his soul. 

Everything clicked.

He understood the cowardice. The naivete. The reluctance to be kissed. Why the Sea King called Jake black hearted. He saw every layered facet of Jake laid before him like a spread of cards, from the sexual presentation of his outer self to the lies at his very core. He saw Jake's complex narrative, his weaponized idiocy, how he dissociated to do the things he did, and his craftiness as a coping mechanism. Dirk understood. He _understood._

And it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, or the most logical, but it was the most inevitable: Dirk Strider fell in love.

John was right; Jake was going to break his heart. Dirk may have understood Jake, but he did not know Jake's motives, and that would probably kill him in the end. But fuck if that stopped his chest from getting tight. Warmth flooded through his veins like a burst of arsenic, his vision clouded over with a darkness that swallowed all but Jake. His morning star shone bright through the fog, and he had to follow the call.

He glided through the crowd. He heard his heels clack against the tile but the feeling of the floor beneath his feet did not register. He stood between Jake and his mother, bowed at the waist, and said,

"Your majesty. I hate to interrupt, but your son once promised to teach me how to dance. I intend to collect."

She eyed Dirk, curled her lip, and asked Jake, "Lapo etrivo?"

"Ha ha, vi," said Jake, voice a little shaky.

She shrugged. "Eh, well, don't take up too much of his time, he's got shit to do."

Dirk nodded, and took Jake’s hand. He escorted him through the crowd, to get far away from Jake’s mother, and found a spot in the opposite corner with plenty of couples surrounding them. Their own wall of privacy. When they were alone as they could be, Jake's mouth parted into a starstruck smile, and he took in Dirk's body with awe.

"You're a sight for sore peepers. Boy, you clean up slick as a whistle," said Jake, walking his eyes down Dirk's chest, abs, legs, then back up. His grin vanished when he met Dirk's gaze. He frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

Jake ignored the question, and skipped to the wrong conclusion. "Am I so prettied up that you've forgotten you're not supposed to pound me?"

"Nah. You look damn fine, dude, but that's not what I'm after," said Dirk, his voice coming out soft and gentle and smooth entirely of its own accord. He pressed his palm against the curve of Jake's waist. The corset was tight like a wound spring. "Who leads in your culture?"

"The taller one," stammered Jake, putting a hand up to his forehead to try and measure. Dirk was just a bit shorter than Jake on the day-to-day, but with Jake barefoot and Dirk in stiletto heels, Dirk won this round.

He hooked his right arm around Jake's waist, so Jake could rest his left hand on Dirk's shoulder. He took Jake's free hand with his own, and held it low, like they were going for an intimate walk in the moonlight. He didn’t know how to dance, he didn’t even know the beat of the song, but he didn’t care. Holding Jake was like floating through an ecstatic, dark dream. 

When Dirk loved someone, whether the object of his affections be his _Black Diamond_ family, or his beloved captain, or his dear King, he went a little crazy over them. He'd burn down the world if he thought it was best for them. And gods fucking help those he loved romantically, because it was all that _plus_ the high-octane, testosterone-fueled sex drive that made him passionately clingy. 

In other words, he wouldn’t let Jake leave his arms again.

“Do you really not know how to dance?” asked Jake.

“Nope.”

“Wowzers, and I thought you knew everything! Well first of all you’ve got to bend your knees a little more, so our sweet selves fit together like two parentheses. And then you shift your weight back and forth to the beat and I follow you,” said Jake, demonstrating the movement. He smiled, meeting Dirk’s eyes, inches away from his. “And then… Strider, seriously. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The woman finished her song in the center, and began another. This one was slower, Dirk thought, and although he still couldn’t figure out the fucking beat, he could at least move like Jake showed him. It felt as though he was in a trance, moving like he was drifting through water, lost in those bright green eyes flickering in the low light.

* * *

_mood music: A qué niegas el delirio (Malagueñas)_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/1QDZ65JWwxajRiPTf9PJ7Y)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXEk0AoNxXQ)]

* * *

To answer Jake’s question would require an entire novel. It took Dirk a while to think of something succinct, and it was the words the Star King put in his mouth: ‘because I want to save you.’ But before he could answer with that, he wanted answers of his own. If he could even get any.

"Why'd you take the Star King's powers?"

Jake froze. His face sprung into an expression of panic. Like Dirk caught him stealing.

"You're such a liar," said Dirk, fondness seeping through his voice. He ran his thumb across Jake’s knuckles. “Why’d you do it?”

Jake tried to jerk away, to run, but Dirk held fast. He lowered his grip to Jake’s tucked waist, so it wouldn’t feel pleasant if Jake fought against it. A night breeze drifted through the crowd, smelling of salt. Couples danced around them, eyes only for each other, and the room too dark for them to notice Jake was in distress.

“Oh, jeez, please don’t hurt me or torture me or do nasty pirate things to me,” whimpered Jake, when he realized he couldn’t escape without making a scene. His eyes frantically scanned Dirk’s face, for some sort of weakness. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I swear, I didn’t think it would end up like this. And I really _do_ want to give them back, I swear. I hate having them. Please don’t cut off my dick and make me eat it.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea of me, dude,” said Dirk. 

Jake didn’t respond immediately, instead falling forward into Dirk’s hold. He nestled his face into Dirk’s shoulder, and muttered, “No. I don’t.” 

The music soaked into Dirk like warm honey. He pressed his lips to Jake’s smooth hair; somebody trimmed it and styled it. It was as soft as the velvet on Jake’s neck. Dirk resumed swaying back and forth, and Jake followed without question.

“Did you steal them to help you escape this city undetected?”

“Mhmm,” said Jake, into Dirk’s shoulder. He was trembling. Dirk knew Jake shook like that when he lied, sometimes. “It didn’t do bunk, but that was the plan.”

“Is that a lie too?”

Jake peeled himself away from Dirk, plastered on the hugest, most pitiful puppy dog eyes, and asked, “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dirk understood what Jake was doing. This roundabout shit where he was simultaneously dodging the question, trying to manipulate Dirk, and expressing his real feelings. Did he think Dirk would hurt him? Yeah, probably. Did he also know that amping up the delicate flower act would tug on Dirk’s heartstrings and negate any possible punishment? _Absolutely._

Dirk was lovesick, simmering with anger like a slow cooker, and maybe a little turned on by all this mental chess. He had enough. He yanked Jake tight to him. Jake’s knees buckled, but Dirk held him fast.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re after,” said Dirk, quiet and harsh. “I don’t know if you’re even after anything at all, if you don’t trust me or you’re trying to suck up to your mom or you’re just a compulsive liar who can’t break the habit or _what._ All I know is that I _have to save you from this fucking tower.”_

Jake trembled like a fawn. “Why… why are you still looking at me like that?”

“Hear me out,” continued Dirk. “I don’t actually give a shit what you’re after. We’re going to find the Star King and you are _going to give back the powers you stole._ You’re going to tell me how. And then we are going to get you out of this horrible place, and we will take you kicking and screaming if we have to, and your mother or your sister or your people will never tell you what to do ever again. There is _nothing_ you can do, short of killing me or my friends, that will stop me from doing this.”

Jake exhaled. His breath ghosted across Dirk’s lips. Wide eyed, still panicked like he was afraid Dirk would whip out a knife and gut him right there and then, Jake realized why exactly Dirk was looking at him like that. And he realized he could do something with that look.

Jake’s lashes fell, and his fear vanished like the wind whisked it away. He went limp in Dirk’s grip, and let go of Dirk’s hand to rest his own demurely on Dirk’s chest. Jake’s lips parted, and he ran his tongue across them, slow. They glistened, shiny in the low light. Jake maintained eye contact with his bedroom look, and there was no mistaking what Jake was asking Dirk to do.

Dirk felt electric, tension buzzed in his head. His body ached to be kissed. He lifted Jake's glasses, and set them on the top of Jake's crown. He fixed Jake's hair. But he didn’t want to do this if Jake wasn’t really consenting, if it was just a desperate trick. He’d play defense. Wait for Jake to make the first move.

"Morning star," murmured Dirk. He dragged his thumb across Jake's soft lower lip. "Please."

Jake swallowed, thick, and Dirk trailed his hand down to rest his fingers against Jake's neck. He stroked the velvet there. Jake squeezed his eyes shut, and took a step back. Dirk let him get some space and recover himself. Jake put his glasses back on.

"Not here," Jake whispered, glancing around like he wanted to be anywhere but under Dirk's gaze. "Let's go to my room."


	18. Oh Morning Star

Jake’s bedroom was pitch black; the artificial moonlight rose on the wrong side of the palace. Big windows in the back of the room let in a orange glow from the streetlights outside, but it was only enough to see the outlines of Jake, a large bed, a closed door on the right, and glimmers of shiny objects in shelves along the walls.

Dirk made a motion to lock the door, but there wasn’t a key. Hell, there wasn’t even a keyhole, and Dirk distinctly remembered there being one on the _other_ side of the door. A chill rattled down his spine when he thought about why that might be.

Jake lit an oil lamp by his bedside. A couple hundred gleaming skulls, organized in perfect rows on shelves stacked all the way to the ceiling, beamed at Dirk with stark shadows. Each one was decorated with swirls of small rhinestones, melted gold, caged in masterfully crafted wirework. Dirk went to the left wall and examined one at eye level. This skull wore a delicate crown of rubies, and the sockets of its empty eyes were trimmed with gold so finely spun it looked like lace.

“Did you make these?” said Dirk, warm with pride.

“Yeah, I dredge up the Jane and John Does nobody wants at the mortuaries and get cracking! I also do commissions, but those get returned to the family of the recently deceased.”

There was nothing else in the room besides shelves of skulls, two bedside endtables, and a sizable fourposter bed. It looked like an ideal bed for having sex in. Huge, immaculately made, lots of pillows in scarlet and purple, with transparent curtains that draped down and filtered the orange oil lamp light. There appeared to be an adjacent room, which probably led to more of his quarters. The entryway was just a room for banging in. Who the fuck organized this layout? Was it Jake? Maybe he was onto something. What was hotter than hundreds of bedazzled skulls beaming down at passionate lovemaking? Absolutely nothing.

Dirk smiled at Jake, which hit him like a blunderbuss shot. “They’re beautiful,” Dirk said, but he was really talking about Jake.

"Please stop looking at me like that," said Jake, sounding exhausted. 

"Sorry," said Dirk, unable to stop looking at him. "Hey. Now that we’re alone. Can I tell you something?"

“I guess,” hummed Jake, uncomfortable. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the bedside table, so Dirk came to him. He didn’t touch Jake, but he stood close enough to him that it’d be easy to lean in for a kiss if he wanted. Dirk couldn’t read Jake’s flat expression.

Unlike his usual socially awkward and utterly uncomfortable love confessions, he was rather calm this time around. Probably because he knew there was little chance of Jake reciprocating, he had nothing to lose because he would steal Jake away no matter what, and it’s not like they could have had sex anyway. Besides, he wanted to see how Jake would react to his chess move.

“Morning star,” said Dirk, kindly. “I’m in love with you.”

Jake exhaled like a bull about to charge. He tensed, from head to toe, and went stock still. He clenched his fists in his dress.

"You don’t love me back," stated Dirk, calm. "It’s cool. I don't mind. I just wanted you to know."

Jake lashed out, grabbed Dirk by the collar, and pushed him back into the bedpost. It would have hurt if Jake had any iota of muscle mass on him. Drunk off fondness, Dirk did not resist anything.

Dirk’s shoulder blades curved around the bedpost. He curled his fingers around the base of it for support. Jake scanned Dirk’s face with wild eyes, his full weight on Dirk’s body. Jake didn’t find whatever he was looking for. He was manic, the deep shadows of the room making his pale, sharp face look as ghastly as his skulls. He dug his hand between their bodies. He pressed his fingers up tight between Dirk’s legs.

“Shit,” Dirk hissed, trying not to be so turned on by it. He failed. Heat blossomed through his thighs. Jake found the soft nub of Dirk’s dick immediately, and he rubbed it through the cloth with the smooth gold ring on his thumb. The momentum went from 0 to 800 in two seconds, and Dirk didn’t mind at all. It was wonderful to be touched by his love, after so long. Like a vibration hit every nerve in his body. Dirk rolled his head back, and it thunked against the post.

He was not so lost in a terrible combination of love and lust that he’d forgotten Jake was deadly. He could say ‘no’ right now, and force Jake away, and he’d probably avoid the curse. He hadn’t made a move on Jake in return. But if he saw it through, to however far Jake wanted to take it… It could only be a boon if Jake had to stay by his side for a while, right? Dirk presumed the Star King would be kind enough to remove his curse once they rescued her.

But he’d only do what Jake wanted. No matter how badly he wanted a kiss, he wouldn’t lift a finger to do _anything_ if Jake did not initiate. It would feel wrong to do otherwise, knowing what Jake’s been put through his whole life.

The motions of Jake’s hand were as violent as his look. He fingered Dirk too fast and too good, for so little buildup. Pressure piled up thick and syrupy in Dirk’s body, as Jake ground the smooth metal against his dick. He forced himself to keep his hands wrapped around the post, to not touch his morning star. He thought it a shame that Jake couldn’t undress him, that he was sewn into his dress, and wondered if Jake would cut it off with a knife.

"You're not really in love with me," rasped Jake. He forced his hand up the slit in Dirk’s dress. "If you were, you'd fight me off!”

“But- you’re- what- ah-” Dirk stammered, as Jake shoved two fingers inside him. He was slick and wanting, but penetration took him by surprise and stung like a burn. He eased into the thrusting quick, with the skin on skin contact. The ring against his dick felt so much hotter without fabric in the way. 

“People in love don't do these kinds of things,” he hissed. Dirk struggled to maintain eye contact, his vision unfocusing with how good it felt. “It's all rose petals and purity and no filthy body stuff involved.”

“W-who told you that?”

"Me! Do you know how many clients of mine have told me those three little words? More than I can count, Dirk!"

Jake pulled his hand away, then yanked Dirk towards him by the shoulders. He pushed him onto the bed, so Dirk landed on his ass, sitting up. Jake dropped to his knees, in front of Dirk.

“And not one of them were telling the truth!” Jake continued, speaking at rapid speed, like he was afraid for his life. His gaze was still dead serious. He pried Dirk’s legs apart, threw back the long scarlet panel at the front of the dress to expose Dirk, and got his arms beneath Dirk’s thighs. “They were all just distracted by my charming face and my soft skin and my fingers inside them! And I'm greatly upset that I've got to add you to the count of buffoons too randy to understand that they don't love me one bit! All you want is my body, not my heart!”

If it were any other accusation, Dirk would have doubted himself, looked inside himself and asked 'do I really love him?' But this? Nah. Jake had so little ground to stand on here that Dirk didn't bat one metaphorical eye.

Quiet and kind, Dirk responded with, “But Jake. _You're_ the one trying to have sex with me right now.”

Jake put his mouth on Dirk, in order to avoid answering. And it was as good as ever. Jake flicked his tongue against Dirk’s dick, sucked in a little, lapsed into a rhythm like he’d been eating out Dirk for years. The motions sent pinpoint lighting to Dirk’s muscles. The piercings tugged on all the right spots. Dirk was wet and dripping and ready. Jake didn’t fuck around with foreplay, he wanted Dirk to come as fast as possible.

Dirk didn’t understand why Jake was doing this. Was this just a roundabout way to kill him? He couldn’t believe that Jake would up and sex-murder Dirk after those two months on the _Black Diamond._ This had to be some kind of power move, to get Dirk to prove he loved Jake. Weird way to do it, but he could play this game.

Dirk laid back on the bed, trying to ignore the stellar sensation of Jake going down on him in order to get a few words in. He didn’t think he’d last long. He glared at an upside-down skull with emeralds in its eyes to try and focus himself. “I don’t love you for your body, dude. I mean, your -ah, fuck- your prettyboy look is hot and all, but that’s like, shit, some supplementary material. You- you feel so fucking good, morning star, but that doesn’t mean I can’t, like, fucking, love you for who you are.”

It was too intense. Dirk’s spine was arching, his legs were getting twitchy, his feet tensed in his high heels. Jake dug his fingers into Dirk’s thighs. All the licking was hard as hell to ignore. He persevered.

“Jake, I think- I think you’re scared you’re nothing but- but a blank slate or some garbage. But that’s not t-true. I’ve seen your colors, I’ve seen a whole fuckin’ spread of, ah, of delicious fucking colors. I’ve seen you manipulate like a champ and seduce Death and worm your way out of every, fuck, every shitty situation you get yourself into, and god that’s so hot when you connive your way out of things, and I’ve seen you accomplish some _huge_ tasks you didn’t think you could do and I’ve seen you -oh god, yeah, right there- seen you cry and be weak and I’ve seen you want me to carry you -which I love doing, gods, it’s hot- and I’ve seen you at your worst and I’ve seen you at -nngh- at your best. I love you at- at your best. I loved seeing you play guitar with me that night. Like, I can’t- can’t understate how much I loved seeing you happy, and your smile, Jake, I don’t even care that you’re cursing me right now, because, because it means I get more time to get to know you and understand you and love you and, shit, I’m coming-”

Dirk resisted the urge to grab the back of Jake’s head and mash it further against him, and instead rode out his orgasm as Jake intended it. He shivered through it, electricity roiling though his body, his heart aching. Jake pulled away in the aftershocks, and Dirk sat up to look at him.

Jake never bothered to take off his glasses and they were all fogged up with stains. Dirk fixed Jake's hair, woozy and dreamy. He felt like he was floating on cloud nine. Jake looked like he was about to fidget out of his skin, wiping his mouth clean with a violent swipe. He slapped Dirk's hand away from his face, then with a practiced motion, tugged apart the slit in his skirt and tucked the two swaths of fabric between his legs, leaving him completely exposed below his corset. He was very erect, his cock dripping an alarmingly virile stream of precome. 

Jake yanked Dirk's ankle off the floor, and pressed the sole of Dirk's shoe against the shaft of his dick. The leather on the bottom clacked against Jake's piercings. Dirk's thin heel made a slight indent in Jake's balls. Ouch. 

"Whoa, hold up," said Dirk, trying to gently pull his leg away. Jake held him fast. "Doesn’t this hurt?"

"Please honeycomb, I want you," whined Jake. His naive, fast-talking, sex-kitten voice didn't match his dark expression. "I want a big scary pirate to punish me! You're soooooo hot when you're mad and I want it sooooooooo bad."

"Uh. Do you?"

"Yee-ees! Aren't you positively in a rage because I just accidentally subconsciously doomed you with terrible luck? Don't you want to punish little ol’ me?"

"Not... really? Were you listening to anything I said? I kinda poured my heart out back there."

Jake didn't listen. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile, and a dark flame burned in his eyes. He wrapped his long fingers tight around Dirk's arch, and pushed. He bit down on his lip, moaning like a caricature of himself as he ground his cock into Dirk's shoe. Dirk was entranced for a moment, watching the rocking movement of Jake's dick as it slid against his leather sole, how animalistic it all looked, forcing himself to get off on a goddamn high heel.

Jake's manic eye contact stayed steady until the moment of orgasm, which took about ten seconds to reach. His lids fell shut, his mouth parted, and he looked unafraid and relaxed as he proceeded to come all over Dirk's expensive shoe. Big gobs of white trailed from the tip of his cock down the scarlet front.

Dirk tugged his foot away and got his shoe off before any come dripped onto his skin. The leather left a smear of black along the underside of Jake's cock. That can’t have felt good. Jake started giggling, poised with his spine curved back so it showed off his chest and tiny waist. Very performative.

The one lamp in the room gave Jake an unsettling glow, the orange light shrouding half his face in shadow. Jake was beaming, but Dirk could see the cracks in the mask. The smile looked forced, his eyes were too wide, his shoulders trembled. Dirk didn’t know what to do.

Jake stood up, graceful as a dancer, and swished one of the transparent bed curtains aside with a delicate flick of his wrist. Dirk was sitting on the matching curtain, so he had to stand before following Jake onto his bed. The lamp behind the curtain filtered through the fabric like a red fog.

Jake pressed Dirk into the bed. The silk pillows felt like slick oil beneath his head. Jake hovered like a shadow above him, and climbed onto his lap as though he were going to ride a strapon Dirk wasn’t wearing. The red light shimmered around his black and white body like a halo. Jake stretched his hand down between his own legs, then reached all the way back to… massage his taint.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dirk asked, staring to feel uncomfortable.

“Oh, well, fun fact: the refractory period where the magic rod stays all dormant and useless is entirely mental! I can get myself nice and perky by stimulating some other part of me, and then I just-” Jake shut his eyes, and a tear fell down his cheek. “-think of something that gets me revved up. And _everything_ revs me up.”

Dirk watched that tear trail down Jake’s cheek, down the edge of his chin, and drip onto the black mound of his bustle. Horror wracked Dirk to the bone. His soul curled up like a dead leaf.

“Stop,” said Dirk, in a panic. He gripped Jake’s hips. “Stop, Jake. Don’t do this. I don’t want any more.”

"Yes you do!” said Jake, who didn’t seem to notice he was crying. “Besides, I'm not wasting the strong, mean, emotionless sociopath maniac man in my room who is certainly angry at me and probably wants revenge! Surely you want to do some depraved things to my body."

“Wait, what? Dude,” said Dirk, propping himself up on his elbows. “I mean it. I-”

Jake tried to push Dirk back down, and _that_ was the last fucking straw. Jake yelped as Dirk bucked beneath him, sat up, and rocked Jake forward. They ended in a lotus position, with Jake’s legs kicked out behind Dirk’s back, and Dirk staring Jake down in the ruby bed. 

Dirk pressed his hands to Jake’s cheeks, and told him, “Stop. I’m done.”

Jake gaped at Dirk like an abyss. His mouth parted, panic seething through his skin. His eyes shone bright red and wet in the light. Two more tears trailed down his cheeks. 

“Why!?” said Jake, near hysterics. “You always lust after me, why stop now!?”

“I don’t want to have sex.”

"Why don’t you want to fuck me!? That's all you like about me! That’s all you care about!" 

"Hey now. You can’t retcon the fact I care about you. Stop it."

Shivers wracked Jake’s body. He could not look away, he could barely blink. More tears slipped from him, and coated his skin, and Jake began to sob. He grabbed Dirk's wrists, tight, and begged, "Do something, please, don't just look at me, _fuck me-"_

Dirk ignored Jake’s hold on his wrists. He pulled Jake’s glasses off, and set them aside. Jake choked and convulsed like he was about to dry heave. His face scrunched up into a desperate, terrible expression Dirk didn’t think he was capable of, and he shattered. Fluids burst from every hole in his face, unable to beautify his collapse into despair.

Dirk let him hide in his shoulder. Jake curled up and sobbed into Dirk’s chest, staining the dress with tears, snot, and spit. Jake wailed like he just received a death sentence, and Dirk held him as tight as he could. Jake rocked back and forth, clenched his fists in Dirk’s sides.

“You can’t love me! You can’t!” Jake screamed, with the same desperate shrieking tone Dirk had heard nobles beg in before he beheaded them. “I’m all rotten! I’m rotted from the inside out! I’m accian estipaco es rotten evidico blackest fucking heart. Dirk! Dirk, I don’t care about anyone, I’ve _never_ cared about anyone, all I want to do is have sex all the time and I don’t actually give one shit about es paito al bienta, la pamo matripoli, I’m too rotted out, Dirk-”

“That’s fine, I’m all rotten too.”

Jake didn’t register what Dirk said. He continued screaming into Dirk’s chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I keep lying to you, I’m sorry I cursed you, I’m sorry don’t care! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” soothed Dirk, rubbing Jake’s back. Jake rocked back and forth in his lap, weeping, shrieking, apologizing over and over.

Dirk didn’t say much, in the hour that followed. 

Jake cried out some ‘sorry’s and ‘you can’t love me’s and random foreign language babble in repeated succession, to which Dirk always replied ‘It’s alright’ and ‘I do love you’ and ‘what’d you say.’ Jake never answered that last one. The volume decreased as the night wore on, and by the time the moonlight shone into Jake’s red room, he had cried himself out.

The lamp long since burned out. The moonlight filtered through the fabric and made their hideaway glow all feathered and white. Jake’s window was cracked open, and the breeze blew his bedcurtains in transparent sheets around the two of them in their flower hold. The wind sounded like a gentle whisper, fresh and new in the quiet room. It smelled of the sea.

Dirk was cramped from holding Jake like this, sticky hot from Jake’s thick dress covering his legs, drenched all the way down the front of his chest, and his crotch felt like a fucking swamp. He couldn’t imagine how shitty Jake felt. Waterlogged, corseted, anxious, cummed the fuck up, and stepped on. Dirk hoped he didn’t accidentally puncture Jake’s balls with the stiletto heel.

Jake felt like a wet bag of flour in his lap. Dirk stroked Jake’s hair back, and whispered, “Would you like a bath?”

“Why,” Jake sniffled, his voice hoarse and meek. “I know you have a bath fetish but I feel very silly and unattractive at the-”

“I’m not going to fuck you, Jake. Let me do something platonic for once.”

Jake nestled into Dirk’s shoulder. “I don’t believe you but alrighty. First door on your right.”

Dirk wanted to scope out where the bath was first, since he figured he’d have to undress Jake and carry him to it. He pressed a kiss to Jake’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, love.”

He peeled himself away from Jake, who fell onto the bed face down. Jake threaded his fingers into his down comforter, for something to hold on to. Dirk’s heart fell. He would make it quick, then.

He kicked off his remaining shoe before opening the side door, which led into a pitch black hallway. He fumbled his hands along the wall until he found the doorknob, and twisted it open into a moonlit bathing area. It wasn’t huge, just a blue tile floor that transitioned into a square bath set in the back of the room. The bath was more like a pool, embedded in the floor with three stairs that led into it, and was large enough to comfortably fit four people. A large, arched window placed in the back wall above eye level displayed a beautiful view of the moon. Between the bath and the window, there was a mural of a blue mermaid, topless and playing the harp.

Dirk was more concerned with getting back to Jake than salivating over the extremely dope bathtub. He stepped into it —it was bone dry— and twisted the two taps nestled in the wall to full power. The water thundered into the large tile basin. There were bathing supplies in a shelf near the door, bottles of oils and soaps and perfumes that were used to slowly rub over the intended object of lustful desires. Dirk grabbed the plainest bar of soap he could find, and set it on the rim of the pool. There were tens of salts to choose from, and Dirk chose one that smelled of lavender. He tossed handfuls of it beneath the flow of water.

He wanted to undress Jake on his bed, as opposed to in a cold tile bathroom. He found Jake exactly where he left him, face down and curled up and sniffling into his blankets. Dirk sat down next to him, and Jake tried to heft himself up.

“Stay there,” said Dirk, reaching out to rub Jake’s back. “I’ll undress you.”

“O-oh,” said Jake, and shifted to lay in a more attractive way, with his long legs kicked out along the bed and his spine curved.

Dirk ignored it. He knelt next to Jake, rested one hand on his shoulderblades to keep him from trying to sit up and do something sexual, and placed the other on the knot on the back of his corset. Jake shuddered, afraid.

Dirk was certain that a bath would do the trick and soothe Jake, but he felt terrible doing something Jake considered sexual. Dirk didn’t want him to feel like he had to perform for him, even after all this. But there was nothing he could say that would convince Jake otherwise. He could at least make it as soft and pleasant as possible.

He thought of things that relaxed him: having fun with his friends, the night sky, the ocean waves. Playing guitar beneath the stars. Dirk knew plenty of soft sea songs, the kind that made his heart ache and made him want to dream. He could try one. Even though he wasn’t a very good singer.

He’d mess with the lyrics a little, of course. He wouldn’t be a sailor if he didn’t fuck with the lyrics.

His voice came out scratchy and a little off-key in the quiet room. He never sang like this, never quiet and from his heart. There was no rapping this time. Just a lullaby.

_to the tune of Shenandoah_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/7aPRG5yoKfz6XJIQpJph0v)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XV6OoOcKPUg)]

* * *

  
  


Oh, morning star, I love you dearly,  
Away, on rolling currents.  
Oh morning star, I want you with me.  
Away, I've sailed away,  
Into the gray, misty ocean.

  
  


The shadows stain your soul so deeply,  
Away, on rolling currents.  
The sun will shine for you again,  
Away, I've sailed away,  
Into the gray, misty ocean.

  
  


We’ll help you find a sweet new homeland  
Away, on rolling currents.  
The sun will rise on your horizon,  
Away, I've sailed away,  
Into the gray, misty ocean.

  
  


You’ll take your flight with your dear friends,  
Away, on rolling currents.  
And the morning light will warm you again,  
Away, I've sailed away,  
Into the gray, misty ocean.

  
  


Oh morning star, you’re bound to leave me,  
Away, on rolling currents.  
On land you’ll stay, where I can't follow,  
Away, I've sailed away,  
Into the gray, misty ocean.

| 

Dirk slid his fingers beneath the knot, to tug the ends loose. He undid the bow like he was sewing silk, drawing the thread back in long, gentle strokes. Jake did not move beneath Dirk’s firm palm. He breathed in stuttered gasps against the bed.

Dirk tugged at the tight edges of the corset, careful not to disturb Jake. The laces pulled apart like taffy. Jake’s breathing grew deeper, rhythmic, in time with Dirk’s song. The white bedcurtains swayed around them like clouds passing over a crescent moon.

When it was loose enough, Dirk straddled Jake’s hips and wormed his hands beneath Jake’s waist. He lifted him up, a few inches. He undid the stays in the front, going by the feel of the hooks against his fingertips. Dirk stared at the black velvet on the back of Jake’s neck, and wished he could cut it off again.

He removed the corset, and discarded it. He laid Jake down. He plucked Jake’s hand off the bed, forced his fingers to uncurl, and pulled the gold rings off. One by one, he placed them on the bed.

The dress fastened in the front with a few buttons, so Dirk rolled Jake onto his back. Jake’s eyes were shut, breathing steady. A very good sign. Dirk resisted the urge to stroke Jake’s hair, to cup his cheek, to hold his hands. He undid the dress, taking his time on each fastener, and peeled it off Jake like he was opening a rose bud. Jake was naked, besides for his velvet bonds.

Dirk shuffled onto his knees, and plucked Jake into his arms. Jake sank into the bridal style hold, loose limbed and buttered up. The moon guided his path as Dirk carried Jake through the hallway, to the bath. Jake glowed in the pale light, and was warm against Dirk’s chest and cheek. Dirk quieted his song, with Jake so near his lips.

The pool was nearly full, steam wafting in the moonbeams that shone through the arched window. Dirk didn’t even care he was wearing clothing, and he didn’t care he couldn’t take it off. He walked right into the bath with Jake. The scarlet panels of his dress floated along the surface of the water in large swaths of bright color. Rose red in the moonlight.

He set Jake down on the seat of the bottom stair. The water came up to Jake’s shoulders. Dirk turned both taps off, and sat down next to Jake. Their legs bumped beneath the water. Jake’s eyes sparkled like dark emeralds. His mouth parted, gently, as Dirk finished the last verse.  
  
---|---  
  
Dirk grabbed the bar of soap, and worked it into a lather between his hands. The water was warm and cozy and smelled of sleep. His clothes were heavy on him, and curled around Jake in clouds of scarlet.

“Stay with me tonight?” Jake asked, meekly.

“Of course,” said Dirk. He placed his soapy hand on the cusp of Jake’s chin. “Anything.”

“And, um, don’t forget…” muttered Jake, his lips curling into a nervous smile. “My piercings.”

Dirk returned his smile, and cleaned those first. 

Jake shut his eyes and let Dirk wash him. He didn’t try to pose, or perform, or come on to Dirk. Not even when Dirk was touching anything intimate. Dirk was relieved to note he did _not_ puncture Jake with his heel.

Jake felt better, once Dirk finished. Jake offered to grab Dirk a tool to get the dress off, and Dirk waited alone in the bath while Jake dried off and returned with a curved, blunted knife. He helped Dirk break the seams on the left side, and they hung up Dirk’s wet clothes on a rack in the corner of the bathroom.

Dirk greatly preferred sleeping in the nude, and Jake didn’t have anything that wasn’t sexy lingerie, so they snuggled up naked in Jake’s bed together. It was very late, and Jake was tired and cried out, and he fell asleep in Dirk’s arms in minutes. It took Dirk a little longer. Mostly because he was so elated at getting to hold Jake beneath the covers again, he didn’t want to waste a moment of it. 

It didn’t occur to him until he awoke, that nothing bad happened to him in his moments alone in the bathtub.

The morning light filtered through the bed curtains in shades of pale blue. White sunbeams drifted across Jake’s black hair, rustling against Dirk’s gentle exhales. Dirk tightened his hold around Jake’s waist, and pressed his face into Jake’s back. He smelled of lavender.

No curse. Jake either cared about him bone-deep, or did not subconsciously feel that Dirk was using his body. Dirk thought it was the former, and his mouth flickered into a smile against Jake’s soft skin.

What time was it? He hoped he didn’t sleep in too late. Warm beds or no, he had a mission to attend to. Jake made an adorable "mmm" noise when Dirk shifted on the pillows. He propped himself up above Jake, the silk sheets slipping down his skin. Jake's eyelashes fluttered, but were too heavy with sleep to open.

"Sun's risen," whispered Dirk. "I should get going, check on the crew."

Jake rolled onto his back, his eyes still shut, and placed his limp hand on Dirk's bare chest. "Don't leave me."

"Come with me, then. I'll carry you to my room."

Jake blinked his eyes open, just for an instant. He frowned, weakly, and shut them again. "I want to stay in bed..."

“I’m getting up, yeah? I’d like you to come with me.”

“Nooooo…”

It ached, to resist Jake, but he _had_ to. He stroked Jake’s cheek. "I have to make sure my friends are still alright. That Vriska didn’t do anything batshit last night. And I’ve got to see John.”

“Oh,” yawned Jake, and rolled away from Dirk, onto his stomach. In a sarcastic tone, he sleepily grumbled, “Sucks.”

“Huh?” asked Dirk, but Jake was already fast asleep.

He didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it was pretty goddamn suspicious. The deep fear that Jake would do something terrible to them wracked his body. Dirk still didn’t know Jake’s motives. He _had_ to get Jake out of this place before Jake’s lies ended up hurting them. He hoped his crew were nearly ready to save the Star King.

He got out of bed, brushing aside the curtains to stand and stretch. Jake didn’t stir. First order of business: finding some fucking clothes. He couldn’t walk-of-shame back to his room in nothing but cummy red pumps-- Vriska would literally shoot him from secondhand embarrassment.

He stepped through the side door, the one that led to Jake’s interior hallway. In the morning light, Dirk saw that it extended long past the bathroom, with three doors on each side, ending in a large arched window. It was open, letting the cold sea breeze in. Dirk shivered, and tried the first door on the left.

It led to some kind of fancy sitting room, with couches and pillows and drapey red curtains and shit. The plush fabrics and long, low couches reminded Dirk of the brothel-combo-drug-dens he’d visited. He shut the door, and tried the next one. This one was filled top to bottom with piles of unorganized junk. Clocks, dusty paintings of women, taxidermized animals, dried flowers, ceremonial weapons, sewing supplies, butterfly collections, and other bizarre trinkets littered the room. All of Jake’s random knicknacks, maybe? He didn’t know Jake was a hoarder. His hand twitched with the urge to steal one of the pricey ostrich egg goblets in the corner, but he resisted. He shut the door.

He tried the room next to the bathroom, and hit the jackpot. It was an extensive wall-to-wall closet, loaded with clothes and shoes and accessories, with a huge three way mirror and plush stool to sit on. Dirk raided it for something sensible, and it took him quite some time to find an outfit that he could wear without shame. He threw on a white shirt so baggy that Jake would have drowned in it, a plain maroon skirt that went to his ankles, and fastened it all with a bright red sash. In a moment of utter vulnerability, Dirk tugged on his loose white collar and pressed his face into it. Smelled like Jake.

Jake's feet were a bit bigger than Dirk's, but Dirk found a pair of wrappy ribbon sandals where the size difference wouldn't matter so much. He tucked them into the back of his belt, careful not to wear shoes indoors.

Jake was still asleep when Dirk returned to the bedroom. Not wanting to wake Jake, and fully intending to return once he’d gotten updates from John, Dirk went right for the front door. He tried the knob. Locked, from the outside.

Dirk glowered at the door. Rattled it again. He glared at Jake’s bed, then back at the knob. Did Jake’s mother order him to be locked in here after Jake ditched his so-called responsibilities? What a cunt.

He didn’t bother with trying to lockpick it. He returned to the hallway, walked to the open window, and stuck his head out. They were on the third floor, but beneath was a black balcony attached to someone’s guest room. Dirk climbed out the window, lowered himself so he hung down the flat, white, outer wall, and dropped onto the balcony. Thankfully, the room below was unoccupied.

He found his own guest room without issue, but bypassed it to knock on John and Vriska’s door. He called their names. After receiving no answer, he let himself in. Their room was empty.

Confused, he took a quick look around. Neither of his friends had been there for a while. The bed was made, like no one slept in it. The sink and bathtub were dry. No discarded clothes littered the floor.

As he swept the room, he glanced out the large window that looked over the layers of the tiered city beneath them. There were plumes of smoke billowing from the dock area. Dirk narrowed his eyes, trying to see the far-away source of the fire. It couldn’t be the _Black Diamond,_ right? It was probably just some over-active forges. He wished he had his spyglass.

The door slammed open. Vriska stood in the frame, manic and panicked, wearing a completely different fancy outfit than the one she went to the dance in. It was too big for her; the black pants were barely held up by a gold belt, and the chest area was so baggy Dirk could see nearly everything. Her porcelain mask was missing, her fused eyelid exposed to the world. Her hair was back to its frazzled, normal state. She was panting like she just killed six men and and was coming down from the adrenaline high.

“DIRK!” screamed Vriska. “I BANGED JANE!”

For a rare, once-in-a-year moment, Dirk’s face twisted into a gleeful, shit-eating grin. He slowly raised his finger, to point at her in righteous judgment. He opened his mouth to let forth a terrifying, victorious bellow of laughter.

“I CAN’T FIND JOHN!”

The laughter died in his throat, and he wilted. 

Neither of them kept an eye on John, too busy with their respective siblings to pay attention to their King. Best case scenario was that John went off with some giggling, innocent girls. It was more likely John ditched the party to try and rescue his sister, probably getting caught in the process. There was also the horrible, worst-case possibility that this was a planned distraction. That they were duped. Repulsed by both himself and Vriska, rage overtook him, and every muscle in his body started throwing a goddamn fit.

“You moron! You idiot!” screamed Dirk. He scrambled for a thousand different accusations, but was so angry he couldn’t get a grip on the tens of monologues he wanted to belt at her, so his brain shat out, “She didn’t even have her nails trimmed!”

“They weren’t _that_ long!”

“They were like, four fucking inches long!”

Vriska stormed through the room, stood on her tip toes, grabbed Dirk by the collar, and yanked him down to her level.

“The things she did with those nails, Strider,” hissed Vriska, fury burning in her wild eyes. “Were better than anything your fuckboy could have come up with.”

“So you want to fight, bitch? At seven AM, bitch? Those are-”

“Eh, excuse me?”

They whipped around to face the attendant standing in the doorway. She looked nervous, eying the pirates like they were going to snap and shoot her dead at any moment. A fair assumption, honestly. With a heavy, barely understandable accent, she said,

“Her Imperious Condescension would like to invite to breakfast you both.”

Dirk and Vriska raised their eyebrows, in unison.


	19. Verdiales (Instrumental)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _mood music for this chapter: Verdiales_
> 
> [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeE6O9WZdbA88PyDeJBtx)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CunH4qxzsR0)]

They were shuffled to and seated in a different sunroom than before, although every single detail about the room was the same except for the view. The tiered city blossomed out below them behind large panes of glass. Dirk was growing concerned about that fire down at the docks.

There was strawberry cake this time. Neither of them were eating it. Vriska was still somehow taking up most of the couch space, even without John. Condy's tits were out again, gazing at him from the opposite side of the table. Dirk wondered if Jane had her nips pierced too. Ugh, matching familial tit jewelry was so fucking weird.

“Mornin’.” The Condesce snuffed out her cigar, her eyes flashing between Dirk and Vriska. “Hey, wait, are you wearing my kids’ clothes?”

“Yeah,” said Vriska. “No,” said Dirk, at the exact same time. They blinked at each other, then tried to reorder their answers. “No,” said Vriska. “Yeah,” said Dirk. 

"My idiot son I can see. Y'know, always thinkin' with his dong instead of whatever the fuck's left of his brainpan," said the Condesce, eying up Dirk. "But Jane's a shocker. Gonna have to have a talk with her about good taste."

Vriska snorted snot back into her nose. "What do you mean 'good taste!?'"

The Condesce ignored the question. Dirk had to give Vriska a subtle snake bite on her wrist to stop her from full-body tackling the Condesce. 'The guards,' he grumbled in her ear, which made her calm the fuck down.

There were six guards in the room this time. It concerned the hell out of Dirk. Vriska swapped out her decorative golden hand with her hook before they left, and that was the only weapon they had on them. Dirk wasn’t one to knock their battle prowess and piratical psychopathy, but they’d be completely fucked if she tried to start shit in this small room.

“So, y’all have fun?” asked the Condescension, grinning. “Where’d your King run off to last night?”

Dirk opened his mouth to say, ‘We have no idea,’ before he realized what she called John. 

Well. Things had certainly gone sideways. They might have a hard time getting out of here alive.

Vriska groaned, smacked a hand to her forehead, and flopped back into the couch. Dirk dragged a hand down his face, utterly frustrated with himself, Jake, Vriska, and the entire rest of the world. The Condescension pointed a four inch long nail at Dirk and let out a long, loud laugh, one that sounded more like a honk. 

“Gotcha, bitches! Caught ya like minnows in a trap!” squealed the Condesce, cracking up. “Awwww man, the looks on your faces! They’re so fuckin’ choice! They’re gonna be even _more_ choice once I start torturin’ ya for the location of the other two Kings.”

Vriska, although pissed about the John situation, started cackling at the idea of torture. It was a pretty ridiculous suggestion that pain would get any information out of Dirk ‘extreme sadomasochism turns me on’ Strider and Vriska ‘been through worse’ Serket. Dirk might have even joined in with Vriska’s laughing fit, if he wasn’t so mad.

He was an idiot for leaving John alone. And he shouldn’t have left Jake alone from the get-go. _And_ he shouldn’t have fallen in love. But it was too late, wasn’t it? He couldn’t bring himself to direct any fury at Jake. He just felt the urge to give Jake a stern lecture.

At the very least, Jake must have kept the details of his adventure on the DL. Otherwise, the Condesce would already know about the Sea King and Dead King, and there wouldn’t be any need for torture. 

Growing more far angry with himself than with Jake, Dirk said, "Ma'am, at least tell us one thing before you break out the Catherine Wheel: did Jake sell us out, like, the moment he arrived, or was there some coercion involved?"

"What the glub are you talkin' about? Janey's the one who told me."

Dirk and Vriska glanced at one another. 

The sunroom door opened, and Jake strolled through with a silver tea tray. He looked the same as yesterday, down to the doll-like smile on his face, although his outfit was black instead of red. He was missing the corset too, like he’d gotten dressed in a hurry. 

Already? Dirk thought for sure that nobody would bother Jake in the morning, that his mother wouldn’t force him to perform for them this early. Dirk was torn between a couple emotions: self-hatred over leaving Jake alone in his room, sickness over the sexy tea service routine, and confusion over if Jake actually betrayed them or not.

"You're a little early, kid," grumbled the Condesce. “I didn’t get a chance to gloat.”

"I'm sorry, mother," said Jake, cheerfully.

Instead of unloading the tea on the side of the room, he dropped to his knees to serve them at the coffee table. Lowering himself before the group like a slave. He only had two cups, and he pointedly set them before Dirk and Vriska with graceful, over-practiced motions. There was no sign on his face of the sadness he experienced last night, only the happy expression of someone who took pleasure in domestication. 

Dirk grit his teeth. His stomach churned. The despair over Jake’s situation won out over the rest of Dirk’s emotions, and love pushed him to act in a way he wouldn’t have done before. He leaned forward, and lashed out for Jake’s wrist as Jake reached for the tea pot. Jake froze, and his mask shattered. Shock blossomed over his face.

“Stop,” Dirk told the Condescension. Jake twitched beneath Dirk’s iron-strong grip.

Vriska threw up her arms. "Oh, so IIIIIIII can't throw a tantrum about Jake, but yooooooooou can!? Why's that, huh!? Huh!?"

Dirk ignored Vriska. “If I have to watch Jake serve a single drop of this fucking tea, I am going to kill you, and everyone else in this fucking room, and then burn down this entire city, and then kill myself. Torture me or my captain all you want, lady, but a single second more of this is going to push me over the line.” 

A few of the guards reached for their pistols, but didn’t draw them. Dirk did not break eye contact with Her Imperious Condescension. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Vriska wiggling, excited for the possibility of carnage. The Condesce blinked, unimpressed, and then nodded towards Jake. Like she was allowing him to speak.

“Dirk,” said Jake, in his sex kitten voice. Dirk finally looked away from Condy when he felt Jake’s free hand on his thigh. Like a come-on. Jake was blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “It really is my pleasure to serve you. Please try my tea.”

Dirk wanted to hurl. Rage built up in him, and he started looking around the room for things that he could impale the Condesce with. Jake dug his fingers into Dirk’s thigh, hard. 

“Strider, I _insist,”_ said Jake, and his voice came out more like a hiss with his next command. “Try. My. Tea.”

It was jarring, the break in character. Even Vriska was thrown off by the tone. She peered around Dirk’s shoulder to try and sense Jake’s motive. 

He wouldn't have gone with it if there weren't six fucking guards in the room. But the combination of Jake's desperate earnestness and the threat of death convinced him to let go. Jake sighed a breath of relief, then proceeded to snap back into his act. He poured tea for Dirk and Vriska, exclusively. Vriska started eyeballing Dirk with a look that said, 'are you _really_ going to drink that, idiot?'

Jake just about bolted from the room when he was done serving; picking up his tray, standing, and speedwalking out the door without another word. The Condesce didn't seem to mind. Dirk eyed the tea on the table. It looked normal. He thought of the scentless ornate poison exported from Jake's country, and wondered if it would have left a red tint.

"He's a convincing little shit, isn't he?" said the Condesce, gesturing at the tea. "Knows where to touch to butter you up. People say what they don't really mean around him, just to get under his skirt. And then I swoop in and work out the deals while they’re flustered or dying or whatevs. Anyway, drink up, troglodytes."

The guards still had their hands on their pistols. Something was definitely in that tea, and they were going to use force to make the pair drink it. Vriska scoffed and rolled her eye. Dirk trusted Jake more than he should, and picked up his cup. Nervous, he brought the hot tea to his face, and inhaled the delicate wafts of steam.

"Oh," said Dirk, as nonchalantly as he could. "Vriska. You should really drink this. It smells _so_ good." 

"Yeah right, Strider. I'm not falling for that."

"I swear on the goddamn Dead King, Vriska. You should _really try this._ It's your favorite flavor."

That piqued her curiosity. Cautiously, she plucked her teacup from its saucer, and brought it to her nose to smell the strong almond scent. A grin spread across her face, one wide enough to match the Condescension’s. She held her cup towards Dirk.

“Cheers!” she said. They clinked their porcelain together, threw their heads back, and downed the black tea infused with cyanide and chlorine.

As soon as they swallowed their respective cups, and felt the sweet burn in their chests, the games begun. Dirk dropped his empty teacup, clutched his stomach, lurched forward, and belted out a, “Huuuaaaggghhhh!” Vriska jumped to her feet, her hand at her throat, her hook in the air, and croaked out, “Cyanide… No!!!!!!!! My one… weak… ness…”

“Cyanide? What the fuck?” The Condesce yelled over their loud fake dry heaves. Alarmed, she picked up the teapot, and smelled the spout. She hurled it across the room, and it shattered into a million pieces against the wall. “That glubbing moron! I told him to paralyze, not kill! And in such a low-brow, barbaric way too! Ugh!”

Vriska kicked the coffee table over so she had more room to stumble around. The Condescention shot up to her feet, disgusted, and two guards rushed to her side. Dirk fell forward onto the floor, taking up Vriska’s stage space and also hack-screaming at the top of his lungs. Not to be outdone, Vriska toppled backwards, landed with a hard thud, and started seizing while shrieking in a way reminiscent of geese honking.

“Get me out of here before they hurl on my shoes. Y’all know I can’t stand watchin’ fuckers die. You four! Clean ‘em up!”

Dirk was too busy rolling around on the floor to watch her leave with two escorts. But he heard the door shut. Alright. 2 v. 4. Those odds were better.

He heard the guards mumbling in Aetrian about something— probably wondering if the two pirates spasming on the ground were actually dying or not. Dirk rolled onto his back, heaving, and watched two of them approach. A man went to go examine Vriska. A woman leaned over Dirk, wrinkling her nose, studying his face. As soon as she was close enough, he dropped the act and sprung like a trap.

Dirk yanked her forward by her collar, then twisted her chin back with the heel of his hand. He always enjoyed the sound of a spine snapping. It was a satisfying noise, like a cork popping off a champagne bottle.

Vriska killed her guard with a hook to the throat. She scream laughed at the fountain of blood that shot out over the floor. Classic Vriska.

He let the dead woman flop on top of him, and whipped the pistol from her belt before the guard in the corner could draw his. The white gun was some technologically advanced bullshit weapon, with no fuse, a shorter barrel, and some kind of rotating chamber. Dirk prayed it was loaded, aimed it at the guy, and fired. It cracked, and cut through the guard with a clean headshot. The chamber spun, and something clicked. Automatic loading?

He shoved the dead woman off him, spun on his ass, and fired at the last guard in the opposite corner. Another headshot. Vriska sat crosslegged and pouted, disappointed she only got to kill one out of the four. Dirk would gloat later.

They raided the bodies for pistols, as quick as they could. They both equipped two, shoving them into their belts, and decided to escape out the window. This one was a bit trickier than Jake’s window, as they were on the fifth floor and the nearest balcony was one floor lower and kitty-corner to them, but with some daring leaps and creative handholding, they managed. They snuck through the kitchen it led into, found the nearest broom closet, and crammed themselves into it.

It was pitch dark, Vriska was two inches away from him, it was really humid, and everything smelled like ammonia. His heart was pounding with adrenaline. It wasn’t a good day today.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan,” hissed Vriska. “We sneak back down to the docks, grab our crew, and go bust the Star King out, ready or not. She can help us find John too! And then we hightail it out of here.”

“We can’t fucking run through town like that, we’re probably wanted enemies of the state and you’re going to stand out like a sore thumb,” said Dirk. “You’re like two feet tall, half your face is melted off, and you’re roughly nine thousand shades darker than everybody on this entire goddamn continent.”

“Oh, _I’m_ gonna stand out, Mr. Half-Tone Blond, Beefy, Tattooed, and Monolided!?” said Vriska. “The moment someone looks into your beautiful almond eyes, you’re caught!”

“You think they’re beautiful? I’m flattered,” said Dirk, completely deadpan and not very flattered. “I’ve seen a few people with bleached hair. As long as I keep my head down and walk fast, I should be good. But you’ve got a point. Neither of us blend in very well. Also, we might have a hard time finding our crew. There’s something burning down at the docks and things ain’t lookin’ to be in our favor.”

“There’s no way our crew would let them burn our ship down. And even then, so what? We just steal another one,” said Vriska, her voice cracking with emotion at the thought of losing the _Black Diamond._

“What if… what if they hurt our crew?”

He couldn’t see her, but he felt her glare in the dark. “They didn’t. Our crew can take on _anybody,_ even without us.”

Dirk loved his friends more than anything, but he didn’t have as much blind faith as Vriska did. He wished he did. Fear for his friends took hold of his heart, and if he were alone, it would have crippled him. But Vriska never let things like that get in the way.

“So, alright, we can’t leave the palace without risking getting caught,” said Vriska, thinking it over. “But it might suck even worse to stay here. And there’s nobody on our side.”

“Jake’s on our side.”

Dirk felt her eyeroll. “Get off his dick, Strider! Like, fan-fucking-tastic that he helped us get out of there, but I know what people like him do! Mommy’s gonna slap him across the face and he won’t want to help us anymore.”

Dirk took a deep breath. “’Kay. What then, captain?”

“What if we go after John first? They’ve gotta have him captured somewhere, and he’s gotta be nearby!”

Dirk remembered the dream Jade showed him, of the dungeon and the black chains that could hold gods. He remembered the location on the second floor, and mapped out what he knew of the palace, calculated the directions on how to get there. He told Vriska his strategy, and they set out towards the god prison. With the stipulation that if they found Jake along the way, they’d bring him with too.

It took some daring outdoor wall slides, creative handholding, and improbable stealth skill check passes, but they made it alright. The god dungeon was hidden in the back of a large woodworking area, with deep shadows to lurk in, tons of crates to hide behind, and sawdust to toss in the faces of any employees who spotted them sneaking beneath the worktables. Dirk heard John giggling as they approached the thick black door set into a nook in the corner.

“Wow, that was a mean trick to get me in here,” said John, his voice audible due to the barred porthole cut into the center of the door. “I didn’t think you’d actually have handcuffs to hold the fucking wind captive, but you sure proved me wrong. How’d you even make these, anyway?”

“Bullshit science,” said Jane, tired. “You don’t seem very worried, for a creature facing down his death.”

It was set just deep enough in the wall that if they stood right next to the door, no one would be able to see them. Vriska and Dirk shimmied up next to it, and tried not to bump foreheads as they leaned in to peer through the round window. The view was obscured by iron bars, but the torture corner looked exactly like what Jade had shown him. Maybe a little less dusty, and someone cleaned up the broken glass.

“Eh, I’ve lived long enough, I guess. Besides, I want to see what happens! And I’ve got friends to help me out of this jam!”

“Your so-called ‘friends’ won’t be able to help you anymore.”

John was sitting on the stone floor, his arms locked above his head in the pitch black handcuffs. He seemed perky. His shirt was unbuttoned, like someone seduced him too. Made sense. Dirk could see John falling prey to a little bondage play with a couple ditzy girls. 

Jane stood above him, her back to the pirates. She held the black and white lollipop-lookin’ medallion in her hand. The torture instruments were shoved against the wall to make room for the _twelve fucking guards crammed in there._ Damn. There was no way they could pull off an impromptu rescue attempt with those kind of numbers.

“What do you mean? There’s Vriska, and Dirk, and their crew, and Jake too!”

“Jake’s not on your side,” said Jane, and raised the talisman. “Now stay still, please.”

The swirl of the snakes inside the medallion twisted, white over black, and spun like a hypnotic device. As they whirled together faster and faster, a light began to seep from John. His eyes glowed a pale blue, an aura fizzled around him like a distant mist. The spinning snakes pulled his essence in like a fan, and John’s power shot into Jane in great blades of white.

They watched his godhood literally drain from him. His healthy glow dimmed. His muscle mass withered and wilted. He started to look like Dirk once did after six months on a slaver ship with nothing to eat. Vriska tried the door, frantically. Locked. Dirk didn’t know what to do. There were twelve fucking guards in there, they’d die if they went in without a strategy.

John and Jane were linked with strands of power that spun between them like a spiderweb. John acted like he didn’t notice he was getting leeched. His voice came out dry and scratchy, like there was nothing left in his throat.

"I mean, sure, Jake's a bad guy. But not like how _you're_ a bad guy," said John, thoughtfully. His face split into a ghastly grin around the beams of light. "It's like... it's like a really good joke!"

Jane did not respond. She held the spinning medallion steady. She pulsed with a glow of her own, now. John began to laugh, throwing his head back and screeching like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard tears dripped from the edges of his eyes, trailing down his gaunt face.

"His heart is _totally_ mine, you know!" John laughed, as his skin grew sallow, as his thin flesh drew taut around his bones. His clothes hung loose on his skeletal form. "Thief! Trickster! My love!"

His hands became too thin for the handcuffs, and his arms slipped from them. His glasses fell off his face. He did not try to run. He laughed and laughed as he wasted away into bones and ash, until he could not laugh any more.

What was left of him floated away in the ambient air. The light dimmed, and the talisman stopped spinning. Jane set the medallion back on its pedestal. She hovered two inches off the ground, with all the power of the Wind King at her fingertips.

Fuck. Could gods die? They couldn’t, right? They were concepts, right? John would be sitting pretty in Jane, like Jade was sitting in Jake, until they figured out how to restore him, right? Right? He hoped Jake would have the answer, when they found him again. Dirk couldn’t deal with the death of a friend.

“Fuck this!” screamed Vriska. All the guards in the room, and god tier Jane, twisted around to glare at the pirates peering through the window. Dirk’s heart stopped.

Vriska brought both her guns up —one of them spinning on her hook by the trigger— and shot off the hinges with a carefully timed pistol trick. She screamed, raised her leg, and kicked down the door. With a grimace that stretched across her entire burnt face, she aimed her dual pistols at Jane. Nobody inside looked all that impressed.

Dirk yelled, panicked, “I am NOT helping yo-”

The both of them were knocked over immediately by a gust of wind fired from Jane’s open palms. They slid across the sawdust covered floor, and slammed into a large pile of crates. Dirk scrambled to his feet before the guards could run to them, scooped Vriska into the designated carry-stow position, and booked it through the warehouse. Jane and her entourage followed, and she flew through the air with masterful skill. Not like John, with his wild and free motions, but stick straight and with her toes pointed downward.

She hollered things in her language at the employees in the woodworking shop. Dirk tried to dart around as many crates and obstacles as he could, and he was a fast runner, but he couldn’t lose them. Vriska shrieking “Put me down!” and trying to bite his arm wasn’t helping either.

He at least managed to make it out of the workroom, down a corner, and into the red velvet hallways before slamming facefirst into some poor attendant. His bodymass and momentum bowled her over, but in his attempts to steady himself, he dropped Vriska. She leapt to her feet, brandished her pistols, and turned around to charge back into the workroom. Yelling, “No, no, _no,”_ Dirk made the attempt to chase after her. 

As he turned the corner to follow her into the warehouse, someone yanked him backwards by the shirt. It was a hard pull, with all of the person’s weight thrown into it, and Dirk fell backwards on top of his assailant. They tumbled into an open side room --which appeared to be a laundry room stacked with clean white sheets— and landed on the hard wood floor.

Dirk twisted on top of his attacker to straddle them, pulled his gun from his belt, and shoved the barrel against the chin of… Jake English.

“Ha ha,” said Jake, bright red, his hands against the floor in surrender. “Pull enough moves like that and you’ll get a boy sweating like a sauna in summer…”

Dirk filed that away for later. For once in his life, he wasn’t in the mood. He put away his pistol. He heard shots. Then he heard Vriska scream, with fear or pain, from far away. Then he didn’t hear anything at all.

Dirk shot to his feet, horror piercing his soul. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Vriska. He started back into the hallway, but Jake grabbed his hand and clutched it with a death grip.

“Don’t leave!” said Jake, concerned. “Who knows what my dear sister will do to you if you wander back into that death trap?”

Dirk was torn. Jake had a point. Dirk didn’t stand a chance against the winds themselves. And didn’t the Condesce say she just wanted to _torture_ Dirk and Vriska for information? Vriska could handle torture, at least until they could spring her free. But on the other hand, he really didn’t want to throw his captain to the dogs.

In the end, Jake made the decision. “Please,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes, and stroked the weak part of Dirk’s wrist with his long fingertips. Dirk melted, and followed Jake’s pull.

Jake took him up a staircase in the laundry room, and guided Dirk through the third floor, taking unused routes of the gargantuan palace. “Where are we going?” Dirk asked, as they passed through a hallway covered in wall-to-wall paintings of farm landscapes.

“My room,” said Jake, tugging Dirk along. "I should have tried a bit harder to keep you in there this morn. I didn't want you to leave and get all caught up in the shenanigans intended for your co-captain. But here we are!"

Dirk raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Jake ignored the question. “It took me for flippin’ ever to find you! Why did you make your escape through the window instead of exiting my mother’s company through the door like a normal human being? I was waiting for you!” 

“I, uh, sorry?” said Dirk, growing concerned. Jake’s spell broke on him, and the fear returned to his soul. “Hey, fuck, we gotta go back and rescue Vriska-”

“Yeah that’s nice. I have a few choice items I’d like to come clean to you about, old sport.”

“I appreciate it, but we don’t have time. She’s in _trouble,_ we have to-”

“Dirk, please!” said Jake, stopping in his tracks and glaring at Dirk. “Please!”

He looked so serious, and so lovely, that Dirk had no choice but to agree. They stepped into Jake’s room, and shut the door behind them. The bed was made, the sunlight was piercing, the skulls were grinning. Jake slipped through the room to part the curtains and sit on the edge of the bed. Dirk did not join him. Instead, he stood in front of Jake, casting a gentle shadow over him.

“Let’s make it quick,” said Dirk, as kind as possible considering the circumstances. “I want us to get out of here and rescue my friend, and the Kings, as fast as we can. And then we're going to blow this popsicle stand and get us all out of here.”

“Actually, Dirk,” said Jake, rubbing his foot against his ankle. “I’m not intending on leaving my country ever again… I never was, in fact! It was all a big fib. And I don’t intend on letting you leave my room for a while… At least not until Jane is done with her schemes.”

Fabulous. Fucking fantastic. Dirk pressed his hand to his forehead and groaned. Now he had to worry about tying Jake up and kidnapping him against his will too. And somehow figure out how to restore the Kings with Jake being all obtuse and catty and unwilling to help. This was going to be an absolute pain.

Jake reached out and grabbed Dirk’s hand, earnest as hell. “Don’t worry your silly head over it! I’ll entertain you to your heart’s desire, and shaking the love rod is all gucci with you now for some reason? I’m not sure why I didn’t curse you.”

Dirk sighed, and pulled his hand from Jake’s grasp. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with unpacking Jake’s subconscious cursing. “So, alright, this is a twist. Do you want to give back your powers to the Star King or not?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do really hate having this curse! It’s just that, um, well, maybe I should start at the beginning… With the truth, this time.”

Dirk raised his eyebrows. Jake shifted on the bed, and twisted his hands in his lap. He stared at his knees.

“I told you that I fled from home, searching for adventure,” said Jake, carefully. “Which wasn’t _exactly_ a lie, but… I think you assumed that I ran away because I was unhappy with my work/life balance or my mother or some bullshit like that. But that’s not true whatsoever! I’m very fulfilled with my work, and always intended to return to it.”

Dirk sighed, and sat down next to Jake on the bed. Jake continued to stare at his knees. Dirk did not touch him.

“I lied to you, Dirk,” continued Jake. “I ran away because I wanted to kidnap a pirate King and bring them back to Aetria.”

Dirk hung his head, and covered his face. Everything slotted into place, obvious in retrospect: Jake’s insistence on seeing the Dead King, trying to hide his plans behind the language barrier, how he tried to seduce the Dead King and force him to return to Aetria, how he settled for John in the end when his plans failed… Dirk felt like a fucking idiot for not seeing it sooner.

Jake’s voice was flat as he continued. "I stole the Star King's powers because I thought they would help me find the other Kings… I told Jane I was going to nab them and run, but didn’t tell her _why,_ you see, because she didn’t believe in me. I sure proved her wrong! Even though I couldn't control the powers at all. But as luck would have it, I bumped into your crew, which saved my skin. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled face-first into a King!”

As upset as he was, at himself, at Jake, at his crew, Dirk appreciated a good hustle. And this was _killer._ Jake managed to steal a fucking _god._ Dirk dragged his hand down his face and asked, “Why didn’t you go after John from the beginning?”

"Um, I chose the Dead King in particular because Jane was already after the Wind King for wind power reasons and I didn't want to cramp her game, and I didn't know where I'd put my dick in the Sea King."

"But you couldn't get the Dead King. So you settled for John."

"I felt guilty that I was stealing my sister's quarry, but yes!" said Jake. "And I was very upset she decided to come back to The Floating City to gather more resources instead of continuing her search, because I knew she'd take all my credit! But then I changed my plans a little and I think it worked out alright."

‘All his credit,’ huh? So this whole thing, this whole fucking mess he sent Dirk and the _Black Diamond_ on, was just a stupid bid to get brownie points with his mother. Mommy never took him seriously, so he decided to steal the Star King’s abilities to go hunting for a King, tell literally nobody about it, find one and bring them back to prove himself to her, and maybe she’d finally listen to a single word that came out of his fucking mouth.

“Was all this really worth it?” said Dirk, desperate. “You’d kill the Kings so your bitchy mom will fucking glance your way one single time?”

"She’s not a bitch, she’s a saint! And I suppose that’s all how it started, but I twisted my goals around when I returned to Aetria. I decided to throw all my chips in with my sister. I’m the one that told her that John was a King."

And then Jane told the Condesce, for some fucking reason. Perhaps as a distraction? A powerplay? Dirk narrowed his eyes, and waited. Jake took another deep breath, and continued his explanation. He wrung his skirt in his hands.

“I know… I know mother isn’t sweet on me. I’ve been training for two decades, but she treats me like I’m still some, oh, drat, what’s the Common translation? Like I’m some courtesan page. A prostitute apprentice. I serve tea to throw unsuspecting poisionees off guard, and get thrown into a political deal to sweeten the pot for some stodgy politician, and make my mother hoards of cash. And that’s it.”

Dirk’s face twisted into a grimace thinking about how old Jake was and what ‘two decades’ meant in that context. Jake kept talking.

“But all of the _litgamella_ in the stories, and some of my coworkers, they get more free reign! They’re bargaining chips too, that’s kind of the job description, but the leash isn’t as tight on them! I want to talk politics and get secrets, and go on ultra-intriguing sexventures in the country, and poison someone with a hidden ring while we’re making love. And Jane wants to take over from Mom with these snazzy new wind powers, and she’s going to let me do cool spy crap and give me tons of guidance and I’m finally going to be worth something. And then, then maybe… Mother will finally take me seriously.”

She never will. But Dirk didn’t say anything.

“So, in the end,” he continued. “I’ll definitely give the Star King her powers back, but only when Jane directs me. And I can’t have you busting Miss Jade out of prison, because Jane would surely disprove of putting our country on the map before we’re ready for world politics.”

This was disgusting. Dirk’s heart was wracked with pain, hurt, and riding on ninety shots of adrenaline. He was betrayed, but despite it all, he still loved Jake. And the worst part about this whole thing was that Jake decided to be _this._ Somebody valued only for their body. That long ago he gave into all the pressure and decided his worth was entirely based on how well he touched someone. And Dirk and the _Black Diamond_ didn’t even put a fucking _dent_ in that perception.

"Is this who you want to be, Jake?" Dirk choked out. "You really want to be this, for the rest of your life?"

"Well, yes? What else would I do? I excel at my profession, and it's very important, and it's the only thing I'm good at!" 

Dirk pinched the bridge of his nose, horror building up like a weight behind his eyes. "Did you just... did you straight up forget all the time you spent with us? Come with us, and we'll help you find, like, a reasonable vocation. And hell, if you really do still want to be a prostitute, after you have a nice long think about it and your family isn’t anywhere near you, we'll get you a sweet setup at the Velvet Court and you can be your _own_ pimp and-"

"Pardon me for interrupting, but it'd be a little hard to flee on the _Black Diamond,"_ said Jake, innocently. "Considering it's on fire."

Dirk's heart went taut with fear, then snapped. He heard the sound of it breaking. Like someone stepping on a dry twig.

"With my crew inside," he said, deathly calm.

Jake shrugged. "Well I figure nobody warned them!"

At that moment, Dirk knew exactly what Jake's neck would have felt like beneath both palms, and knew exactly what kind of noise it would make when he twisted it. And he knew how many times he would do it until he felt less despair-- or at least felt nothing at all. Three times. Four.

“Why,” Dirk asked, in monotone.

“Ah, Jane threw Vriska and your fellow pirates into the mix as a red herring to throw off Mother,” said Jake, cheerfully. “Mother can’t catch on to her daughter usurping the throne when she’s got ships to burn and Vriskas to torture! In fact, I suspect Jane is handing Vriska over to Mother _right now-”_

“No, I mean… Why didn’t you help them. Why didn’t you resist.”

Jake blinked at Dirk, confused. He shrugged, like the act of speaking up and preventing the murder of seven of his friends would have been too difficult. So Dirk continued questioning.

“These people aren’t faceless nobodies, English. Why Karkat. Why Nepeta. Why Aradia. You adored Aradia.”

Jake frowned, and glared at the floor. He itched his arm. "I mean… they were all fun, albeit evil… I guess I have a hard time caring about people. On the rare occasion where people aren't all mean and nasty to me, everyone just seems so abstract! Like everybody's just a stereotypical storybook character except me."

Without his heart, Dirk shut down. Ice cold rage seeped through his blood, and his aperture narrowed down to Jake-- a disgusting parody of how he felt when in-love. 

"But you're different, Dirk! You don't feel like that at all! For the first time in bloody forever, I... really care about someone. Like I feel all tight and warm and itchy when I dwell on you, like all the storybooks said it would feel. Hell, I think I might even love you... Um... but maybe not yet, since I still want to romp around beneath the sheets with you and people really in love don't do that, haha," said Jake, rubbing his chest nervously. "I... I feel like you believe in me! And that means a lot."

Dirk wasn’t listening. He was too busy trying to figure out how best to hurt Jake, how to make him suffer like his friends had when burning to death.

He wanted to punch him. Pluck out his eyes. Smash his ankles with something heavy. Maybe a classic curb stomp. But none of those items were even in the top ten of worst things that could happen to Jake right now. As broken as Dirk's heart was, it was nothing in comparison to the deep rage that would occur as two forces of nature mourned their lost siblings.

"Rose," said Dirk, with a tone as cold and empty as his soul. "If you're still in there, I believe now would be an appropriate time to make an appearance."

What Dirk _really_ wanted to happen was a bunch of tentacles bursting out of Jake's mouth and Jake exploding in a shower of black guts. Instead, Jake's chest began to glow a pleasing yellow. Jake stared down at it, confused, and the light that Rose put in him beneath the ocean shot like a bullet out of his open mouth.

"What's that?" asked Jake, panicked. He twisted, to look at the light zooming out his window, and said even more panicked, "What was that!?"

"I have no fucking idea," said Dirk, calmer than he'd been in a long, long time. The light vanished into the sky.

If it was just one betrayal, like Jake gave John to the Condesce and they could still save him, Dirk’s heart wouldn’t have hurt so much. He would have understood that this was just a reaction to severe abuse. He would have tied Jake up and done his best, and gotten him out of this country with the help of his crew. His very dead, very burnt crew.

A few tears dripped from his eyes like heavy syrup, but they did not contort his face or distort his deadpan stare. Dirk didn't blink. He didn't even feel them drag down his cheeks.

Everything was Dirk's fault. Everything. He shouldn't have let Jake do _anything._ He shouldn't have trusted, shouldn't have fallen in love, shouldn't have shown his soul to Jake. His weakness gave Jake the ability to wreck everything. Dirk had to tighten this fucking leash before Jake could bumble his way into even more destructive opportunities.

“Are you upset?” said Jake, his voice shaking. "Are you mad about Miss Serket? She's a right cruel bastard who deserves what's coming to her if you ask me."

"She is precious to me," said Dirk. "I’ve loved her all my life."

"John qualifies as collateral damage too, I suppose, but he's so grossly silly. He's funny and such but he doesn't care, he's just using your body! Doesn't that bother you?"

"He is my King and my friend," said Dirk. "And I love him too."

"And if you're worried about your own self, don't be! I'm certain I can convince the powers that be to let you stay with me forever. I like you a lot, Dirk."

He thought of never seeing his friends again, never sailing the seas again. He thought of the crushing hopelessness he'd feel, the loneliness of being trapped on land. He thought of the ways he'd kill himself, if he was truly stuck in this kingdom. Venom dripped from his mouth and pooled in his collarbones, and he became the poison he'd so often swallowed.

"Your mother’s correct," said Dirk. "You can't do anything right."

Jake finally shut up. The noise of his jaw snapping closed was like someone nailing the lid on a coffin. He looked at Dirk like a gaping void.

Dirk stood, left the room, turned the corner, and ran full tilt down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruh roh
> 
> anyway i'd like to take a moment to give a _big fuckin thanks_ to all the wonderful comments you've all left! i really appreciate the support.
> 
> just fyi if you're looking for more content, i do have some [four kings extras on tumblr here (not too many)](https://oxfordroulette.tumblr.com/tagged/the-four-kings) and i also JUST made a [BRAND NEW TWITTER RIGHT HERE](https://twitter.com/oxfordroulette) where i may or may not shitpost about four kings. blease....... follow me........ i like twitter a lot......


	20. FUCKIN' YEEHAW

The plan, in rough order: Find Jade, rescue Vriska if she was still alive, probably die in the process.

He failed everyone. He fucked everything up in so many ways. And now his friends were dead. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. He couldn’t stop crying, but they were fairly gentle tears, all things considered. They didn’t cloud his vision; he could still keep running.

He'd throw himself out a window right the fuck now if there was no hope. But he still had one important thing to do: he _had_ to save the Star King. At any cost. 

It was, frankly, the perfect time to pull off a kidnapping. He was at his most dangerous. He couldn’t do anything to endanger his friends anymore, the Condesce didn’t know where he was, Jake couldn’t function because Dirk made sure to leave him a wreck, and most importantly, Dirk was not nervous because he had nothing to lose.

It took him too long to notice that the hallways were mysteriously empty. In fact, it took him until he was at the main entrance of the palace to realize it. All the staff were gathered around the glass doors, mouths open, gawking and chattering at the horizon. They paid no attention to the wanted criminal as he shoved his way through, and stood at the top of the white staircase that led into the massive marble courtyard. He only stopped to tie on his sandals.

In the middle of the sky, far past the docks, Rose's ball of light slammed against the invisible bubble that kept Aetria hidden. Each time it hit the completely transparent navigation barrier, the whole horizon warbled with white light. Dirk couldn’t remember what the orb was supposed to fucking do, he was riding too high on every emotion known to man. Something about tracking, maybe, probably, who cares.

The guards in the courtyard, stationed all around the square and sitting in the arches that held the gigantic red banners, did not notice Dirk booking it down the center of the plaza. They did not notice him jump the iron gate, nor did they notice him bolt down the pedestrian stairs to the next tier. What they did notice was two gargantuan, pitch black tentacles carve through the very air itself.

Her arms, minuscule in comparison to her massive tendrils, passed through the barrier like she was peeling herself through it. She caught her light in her hands, opened her toothy maw, and ate it. Her great mass of a body tumbled into the sea, and the wave that ensued rocked all the boats in port. She carried herself above the waterline, like the tip of an iceberg.

“Found you!” she laughed, with an impossibly loud voice, one Dirk could hear all the way from the second highest tier. Dirk saw the tiny specks of workers running away from a tentacle that lashed out and crushed the nearest dock in twain. The Sea King threw her arms up towards the sky.

“Dave! To me!” she screamed. “Let’s _dance!”_

He hovered in front of her, on the broken piece of dock, like he had been there the whole time. His cloak, rotted and ancient, unfurled, and beneath he held two impossibly broken swords. His hands, and everything else, were wasting away. The Dead King at the height of his power stood ready to attack the city.

When they sang, their voices echoed over The Floating City like a battle horn.

_to the tune of Santy Anno (Hugill vers.)_

[[youtube link (recommended)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atumHTucDLU)] [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/4YkKeRAJRN7AFQ2x8FX5eT)]

* * *

Five hundred years we’ve waited, bitch  
Away, sea and dank plague  
Five hundred years we’ve waited, bitch  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_  
_Aetria, oh Aetria_  
_Away, fuckin’ yeehaw_  
_Aw, Aetria is a place that’s fucked_  
_Along the shores of Aetria_

Y’all shit’s wrecked, Death’s come to town  
Away, sea and dank plague  
I’ll mess you up ‘til the sun goes down  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_

Rose gonna tear your whole place down  
Away, sea and dank plague  
With her freaky coils she will make you drown  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_

Give Jade back ‘cuz I love her so  
Away, sea and dank plague  
Or else I’ll drag your city below  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_

I’ll rot, destroy, and kill you all  
Away, sea and dank plague  
We pirate gods sure ain’t banal  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_

There ain’t no chance of forgiveness, shrew  
Away, sea and dank plague  
No one said thieves were good and true  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_

Give her back and we’ll spare you  
Away, sea and dank plague  
Do it fast or you’re all screwed  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_  
Five hundred years we’ve waited, bitch  
Away, sea and dank plague  
Five hundred years we’ve waited, bitch  
Along the shores of Aetria

_(Chorus)_

_(Chorus)_

| 

Around the Dead King, the ports rotted. The docks sunk into the sea under the weight of time. The boats crumbled into the ocean like dust. A dockworker caught in the crossfire rapidly turned old and disintegrated into nothing. Both Rose and Dave posed in sync, like they were trying to fucking vogue or something.

Dirk made it down to the fourth tier without issue. All the citizens were in a state of utter chaos, trying to get to the edges of the tier, presumably to exit into the countryside and run away from the ocean. It was a pain to fight against the crowd, but Dirk found some private staircase or another and slid down the white marble banister to get lower.

Although Dirk was riding high on suicidal, last-hurrah gusto, he had to take a break from sprinting once he hit the third tier. He leaned against a windmill, panting, watching all the university students scatter.

The two Kings began their slow death march up the tiers of the city, with Dave singing the calls and Rose singing the sardonic responses. She hung on him like he was giving her a piggy back, although she had no need to do so. Her hundreds of tentacles cascading out behind her would have carried her weight just fine. Did she always have that many?

She did not have the sea come with her, although Dirk knew she could probably drown the whole place if she wanted. He wondered if it would mess up the tides in other places if she rose the water level enough to cover a mountain. Instead, she just wrecked buildings and shit with her appendages. She looked like she was having fun.

The rot that followed Dave carved a black, empty path into the city. He left a desolate wasteland in his wake, and Rose smashed everything she could reach. The guards finally got their shit together and were sniping them from upper tiers, but the bullets dissipated into nothing once they reached the Dead King’s radius.

The Kings got to the second tier with the use of Rose’s tentacles. Not like they could have used the stairs, anyway. Dave didn’t really have anything that could be considered legs. 

Dirk made sure to cross to the correct side of the third tier before descending to the second one— he didn’t want to cross paths with the Dead King and get caught in the rotting aura. The warehouse district now below him, he picked up his pace and hyperfocused on Jade. He hoped her guards were too frightened to stay on duty during the Kings’ theatrics.

The warehouse district was clearly the slum area. Rusty buildings, piss on every corner, signs of squatters, people too drunk or depressed or tired to run. Dirk would have felt bad that the Kings probably ruined a bunch of impoverished people’s livelihoods by walking through the area if he felt anything but concentrated desperation at the moment. With pinpoint precision, he traced the path the Star King showed him, and turned the alley corner to see the warehouse with the foreboding, chained doors. 

Four guards at the entrance. Looking at each other like this was just an average Tuesday. Fuck. Dirk immediately ducked back around the corner and hid.

This was fine. He could do this. He had guns and knew how to use them. He was alone and desperate. He could take them on.

From far away, he heard Jane bellow with the power of the winds themselves, _”WHY on EARTH are you SINGING!?”_  
  
---|---  
  
He peered around the corner, raised and readied both his pistols, and took a deep breath. He almost shot his load early when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, brought his pistols down, and pointed both at… Karkat.

Dirk’s mouth dropped open. It was like the floor fell out from beneath him.

Karkat batted away the pistols with all the alarm of a bored kitten playing with a toy. “Yeah, hello, good morning, nice to see you, too. What kind of machismo greeting is this? Maybe I should whip out my sickles and we can have a fucking dick measuring contest.”

Dirk dropped his arms. Roxy was there too, leaning around Karkat. Dirk’s throat felt very, very dry. “I… You’re alright?”

“You okay, dude?” asked Roxy, waving her hand in front of his face. “You look like you’re gonna spew chunks.”

“You’re all alright? Everybody? Even Nepeta? You weren’t on the _Black Diamond?”_

Recognition passed through Karkat’s and Roxy’s faces when they glanced at each other. Karkat put his hand on Dirk’s arm. Both of them looked extremely empathetic when Roxy said, “We all made it out in time. Me and ‘Kat were just doing some scouting to see if the Star King’s guards ran away in the hubbub.” 

Dirk felt roughly two thousand pounds lighter. He swayed, his vision cleared, his anger doused in one jarring moment. He did what any bloodthirsty, evil, ultra-stoic pirate would do when reunited with his crew: he burst into tears.

"I thought- I thought you were all dead," sobbed Dirk, trying to hide his emotion in the crook of his arm. "I didn't know what I was going to do. I wanted to die, guys, I-"

Karkat yanked Dirk into his arms, and forcefully jammed Dirk's head down so Dirk would sob into Karkat's shoulder. His clothes smelled like smoke. Karkat hugged it out, and stroked the back of Dirk's hair, which always felt heavenly when Karkat did it. 

"We're not pushovers," he said, between shooshes. "Nepeta sniffed out the guy trying to start a fire. We all left the ship and burned it down anyway to make them think we died. RIP _Black Diamond,_ you were... cramped and subtier."

"Did you," Dirk sniffled. "Did you at least grab my knives...?"

"Don't worry, baby," said Roxy, rubbing Dirk’s back. "We got you a knife."

After crying into Karkat for roughly thirty more seconds, Dirk got himself under control. He swapped a pistol for one of his knives, and tucked it into the back of his belt. He was so relieved that his crew was alive that he didn’t mourn any of his possessions lost on the _Black Diamond,_ even the ones chock full of memories. Roxy admired her new gun, tilting it back and forth in the shade of the building they hid behind.

“Where’s Vriska?” asked Karkat.

Dirk winced, regretting his choice to leave the palace. “If I knew you guys were alive, I wouldn’t have come down here. The Condesce has her, I think, and was intending on torturing her for info.”

Both Karkat and Roxy laughed. “Ohhhh she’s totes fine,” said Roxy. “Vriska can handle torture.”

“Problem is, Condy was intending to torture her to procure info on where our other two Kings were,” said Dirk, gesturing towards the third tier where the black plague of rot consumed Dave’s immediate area. There was a sudden, unnatural storm gathering above the palace. “And she’s pretty dumb, like dumber-than-Jake-dumb, but she ain’t deaf.”

“Wow, uh,” said Karkat, taken aback. “What happened to your raging hard-on for English?”

Dirk narrowed his eyes, and felt the absolute despair and rage and heartbreak build up in him again. “I’d prefer to tell you all as a group. Where’s the rest of the crew?”

They were all huddled in a shitty tin building a block away. The place would have sounded like a gunfight if it rained. The door was rusted on, so they had to enter through the back where half the panel had been sawed off. Everybody was crammed in the shadowy, unfurnished house. There were some blankets and water canvases and weapons scattered around. There was a hole cut in the roof for a fire, and Feferi was roasting fish in the middle and handing them out. Overtaken with emotion, Dirk had to give them all a hug before eating a snack and recounting what happened to him, Vriska, John, and Jake.

He gave them a pretty short recap of events, and tried to be unbiased, although he could not control his absolute revulsion with Jake’s apathy for the fate of the _Black Diamond_ crew. While all of his friends expressed various levels of disappointment with what Jake had done, nobody seemed irreparably wounded. Probably because none of them loved him like Dirk did. Aradia hurt the most, frowning and staring at the ground when she realized that Jake didn’t perceive their friendship as ‘real.’

Roxy and Karkat gave him the lowdown of their plan to snag the Star King, which they were planning to do today anyway. There was a balcony in the back of the warehouse where only two guards were positioned. There was a trip wire alarm that they disabled last night, so they just had to shoot out the guards without alerting anyone in the front or allowing them to call for help from a nearby guard tower. Apparently the inside wasn’t usually staffed at this hour, although they were planning on having a group of five sneak in just to be careful.

Dirk asked politely if he could be included in the infiltration group, and they agreed. Nepeta, Roxy, Karkat, and Sollux were chosen as his companions, while Feferi would go with them and stand watch in case if they had to call for backup.

The back of the Star King’s warehouse was nondescript besides for a jutting iron balcony on the second floor, where two guards gawked at the freak thunderstorm topping the city. They didn’t notice the pirates beneath them ready their weapons, and they especially didn’t notice Sollux fire his crossbow and Feferi fire her dart gun, because they were dead. 

Nepeta tossed her grappling hook and got it lodged in one of the iron bars, and one by one they climbed up. Karkat, the first one to finish the climb, raided the guards’ pockets for keys to open the balcony door. By the time they were all crammed on the small platform, he found them, and unlocked the heavy doors.

The inside was dark, the only light shining from two windows cut into the other side of the warehouse. It took them a minute for their eyes to adjust. The first thing they noticed was all the tubes and chains. Huge, rope-like, black cylinders hung from this mangled chandelier-like machine suspended from the ceiling. Chains dangled from the same machine, down to the center of the room. A rickety wooden staircase led to the first floor, where the Star King laid on a shitty pile of straw.

They rushed down the stairs as soon as they were able. The chains and tubes were tied together in big funnels suspended above her, and tapered into smaller wires, which transitioned into needles stuck in her skin. Green streams of light shot from the needles, through the wires, then into the tubes, then were absorbed by the bizarre mess of mechanics above them. It buzzed, gently, as they got near it.

Jade looked terrible, was completely naked, and someone stole her glasses. She was skinny as a rail, so her ribs dented through her skin like the supports on a tent. The long hair Dirk dreamt of had been cut into a sloppy bob. She looked like John had, just before he dissolved into nothing.

And Jake did this to her. Dirk just about shattered his teeth with how hard he clenched his jaw.

Roxy choked out a sob, and got to Jade’s side first. She sunk to her knees, and frantically waved her hands over Jade’s body, unsure of what to do. Jade’s eyes were closed, and her breaths were those of someone near death. She had iron chains around her wrists and ankles, although she was so thin that if she were awake she could pull her hands through with little effort.

“Oh god, what do we do?” said Roxy, panicked. 

“Start yankin’ I guess,” said Sollux, who crossed to the other side of the Star King’s ‘bed.’ He sat down, found a needle in Jade’s wrist, and carefully drew it out. It was short, thankfully, and did not leave an open wound behind. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Dirk worked on the needles in her other arm, Karkat got her neck and shoulders, Roxy her breasts and abdomen and hips, and Nepeta her legs. Although there wasn’t an egregious amount of needles or anything, it took a couple minutes. They didn’t want to hurt her. It was gentle work, like sewing sails.

The moment the last needle was plucked from her ankle, the machine ceased humming. Dirk wondered if there was any visible effect outside of the kingdom, of their navigation barrier finally disappearing. Hopefully not.

Jade’s eyes fluttered open. They were dull, but she was alert. She scanned Dirk with a bemused expression. Dirk took her hand and slid it gently out of the iron cuff.

"The dashing pirate comes to rescue the sleeping beauty," giggled Jade, clearly half asleep. "Long time no see. Aren't you going to give the damsel in distress a tender kiss on the lips?"

Dirk raised an eyebrow. "I'm very gay, ma'am."

"Oh, I'm sorry for assuming..." Jade sighed, disappointed. Apparently she was as rambunctious as her brother. Hilarious. She flopped her head towards Sollux. "What about your navigator? Don't you wanna chart the stars?"

"Okay that was a top tier pickup line," said Sollux. He slid her wrist out of the other cuff. "Me and probably our entire crew will be happy to ravish you when you're not, like, fucking dying."

Jade blinked, slowly, like she wasn’t sure what was happening. Nepeta got her feet out of the ankle cuffs. Jade rolled her head back, and reached meekly for Karkat. She could barely lift her arm, like it took all of her energy to do it.

“I'm sorry… I've just been so lonely…” Jade hiccuped, and tears slipped down her face. Her arm flopped back to her chest. “I’ve missed you all so much, and my brothers, and my sister… They’re here, right? I’ve been so scared…”

She started to sob. Her weak body could barely lift itself to heave out choking, pathetic cries. A feeling that could best be described as wanderlust wracked the whole crew, bone-deep. They _had_ to comfort Jade, not just because they cared, but to sate the ache in their soul. Karkat pulled Jade up so she could sit and lean against his chest. Nepeta wiped her tears away. Roxy pressed kisses to her temple, her cheeks. Dirk took her hand, and squeezed. 

Sollux pulled off the green tunic dress he always wore, leaving him in pants and a white undershirt. Dirk raised an eyebrow. “The pickup line wasn’t _that_ great, dude.”

“No, you fucking moron,” hissed Sollux. He held it out towards Dirk. “Put it on her.”

It took three of them to dress her, to raise her arms and hold her up and pull the outfit over her head. Jade sobbed and sobbed, but by the time they had her settled, she’d calmed herself and their wanderlust had sated. It didn’t make any of them feel less bad.

“Gosh, I’m- I’m so out of it,” sniffled Jade. “Sorry guys… Half of me is in Jake and he’s- he’s not doing so hot either. It’s pretty disorienting to be in two messed up bodies, even for me!”

“It’s alright,” said Nepeta, patting Jade’s hand. “We’re gonna get you out of here in a jiffy! And then we’re gonna get Jake to give you back your pawers!”

“Oh yeah,” said Jade, nodding forward like she was going to fall asleep again. Dirk signaled Karkat to ready some rope. “You’re going to need Jake to use that spinny medallion thing. He can reverse the direction of the spiral and give everything back to me.”

Jade could not walk, so Dirk picked her up in a piggyback position. She weighed nearly nothing. Since he needed his arms to climb down the rope, and because she couldn’t keep hers wrapped around his shoulder, they tied her to him around the hips and chest with a strong knot. Her body was warm. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and he could feel her wheeze. 

They escaped the warehouse without issue. Feferi gasped when she saw the state of their King. She tried to offer Jade a fried fish in these trying times, but Jade was unable to eat. All together, they walked to the tin house hideaway.

"Jeez, I haven't eaten anything in five hundred years," hummed Jade, like she was in the middle of a dream. "I think the first thing I'm going to put in my mouth is a big fat juicy steak..."

"I'll cook it rare and feed it to you myself," said Dirk. It occurred to him that he had —half powered or no— a literal god on his back. "Hey, Jade, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure!"

"Do you know the location of my captain, Vriska Serket? Is she alive?"

"Easy peasy," breathed Jade. "Yup, still right as rain. She's in that tower up there. Here, I'll make a spyglass."

A lens appeared before his right eye. The view tilted towards one of the spindly towers on the leftmost edge of the palace, zoomed in through the white wall, and focused in on a very bored Vriska, her arms handcuffed to a wooden table. One of her fingernails had been yanked out. Nobody removed her hook, which seemed like an oversight. There was an ashtray and a cigar on the table, still smoking, but the Condesce wasn’t in the room. She presumably left to go check on the mess outside.

The spyglass vanished. The storm raged, and coated the palace in a mist of gray fog that was hard to parse. Dirk didn’t see the Dead King or the Sea King, but their trail went all the way to the top. 

It’d be a long hike back up.


	21. Star King In Tow

They were at the pedestrian staircase at the edge of the warehouse district when the storm atop the city cleared.

The whole crew had to stop and stare when a black tentacle plucked a lone figure out of the blue sky and slammed her into the marble tiles of the palace courtyard. Jane died with a loud crunch. They heard it from all the way at the bottom tier.

The Dead King and the Sea King waited for Jane to resurrect. Massive black tendrils twined and warped together like a cloud of thorny vines. It masked the perfect, orderly, white palace with a startling contrast. Dirk couldn’t see the Dead King and Sea King’s human bodies, he was too far away.

The whole crew booked it up the staircase to the second tier. The city was desolate, everyone evacuated. It was all the more haunting when Rose’s voice echoed through the quiet town, artificially loud. Like she was showing off for an audience.

“Oh, you figured out how to disappear into the winds, then?” she laughed. “A neat little trick. Clever of you to do it upon resurrection.”

Lightning from nowhere crackled down from the blue sky and struck one of Rose’s tendrils. The wind pushed the smell of fried seafood down the tiers. The tentacle fell with a great thud, but was quickly replaced with another. The crew saw the great expanse of Dave’s rot ahead of them, like someone coated the tier with black ink.

“Give it up,” said Dave, as loud as Rose. “I can see all your goddamn futures since Jade’s been rescued, and the only one you win is where some random asswad gets lucky and shoots me in the dick. And I killed that guy like, half an hour ago, so you’re fucked, kiddo.”

“You’re bluffing!” called Jane’s disembodied voice. A tornado spawned in the midst of the palace, and the tentacles whirled around in a loop, protecting the two kings inside the storm.

“Could be,” said Dave. “Probably not.”

“Be quiet!”

The crew skidded to a halt just at the edge of the black mold, waste, and crumbling infrastructure left in Dave’s wake. It was about a quarter mile wide. It looked like a forest fire, plague, and three hundred years of acid rain had been through the area. Rotten boards and decrepit roads and rusty metal gave it battlefield vibes. Equius carefully toed the edge of it, where the white tile turned to black ash. “Is this safe to tread upon?”

“Yes! It’s quite inert!” said Jade, with as much strength as she could. 

It was a clear path to the top from here, the walls between tiers rotted away to gentle slopes. “It’d be faster if we go up through here,” said Dirk. “But we have to go slower. Might get tetanus if we’re not careful.”

“Don’t worry about it!” chirped Jade. “I’ve got just enough juice to help you through. Go team go!”

Dirk patted Jade’s thigh, as a thank you, and began running up the hill. The rest of his friends followed. To give them all the good luck she could muster, she began to sing. Her voice came out quiet, so quiet that only Dirk could hear it, but the tune was true and the call pierced his soul.

_to the tune of Santy Anno (Lomax vers.)_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/419izowoHoUnA7tZdwU5VE)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3F5sUV3ljXU)]

* * *

We’re running up the tiers to save our friends,  
Fly with me, _Black Diamond_ crew.  
I’ll help you like a lucky charm.  
I’ll guide you with my powers true.

_(Chorus)_  
_So, heave her up and away we'll go._  
_Heave away, Star King in tow._  
_Heave her up and away we'll go._  
_The stars will glow bright tomorrow._

Well, I’m happy to be with you guys.  
Run with me, now, Dirk Strider.  
But you’ve all got to learn to play nice,  
And convince Jake to be a bit lighter.

_(Chorus)_

He’s got to give my magic back now.  
Fly with me, _Black Diamond_ crew.  
He’s got to give my magic back now.  
I’ll guide you with my powers true.

_(Chorus)_

Heave away  
Heave away  
Heave away  
Heave away  
Heave away  
Heave away  
Heave away  
Heave away  
Heave away

| 

Her song worked. Rusty metal clattered away from them with the slightest vibration. Boards that looked too unsteady to stand on turned out to be the perfect weight to support the whole team. No ash stuck to their clothes, even though they left footprints behind them the whole way up.

“You picked a _fabulous_ time to invade!” screamed Jane. Huge cracks of lightning came down in a rush, but did nothing to hinder the gigantic mass of darkness. “I’m in the middle of something very important here!”

“Look, lady, we don’t give a shit about your coup. Like, knock yourself out with that. Hope you win. We just want our sister and brother restored to us,” said Dave.

“You can’t have them! I need these winds to power my city, and I need the Star King because she’s got the other half of- Oh.” The lightning, the wind, the tornadoes all stopped in a single moment. Silence struck the city again. “Oh what am I even _doing?_ I’ll be right back!”

The weather was clear. The tentacles still raged. The crew was at the third tier now, and the ash was knee deep. Jade couldn’t do much about the muck they had to wade through. Dirk supposed that her power was going straight to preventing any shards of broken glass or jagged nails from embedding themselves in the crew’s shins. It was a little better than hiking through mud, but a bit worse than running through water. They’d probably have to abandon the rotted path for this tier, at least.

Dave’s next line was louder than before. “Hey, Jade, you’re out there, right? We’ll see you soon.”

“I can’t wait to give you the _biggest_ hug, my dear,” called Rose.  
  
---|---  
  
Jade ceased singing to meekly cry out, “I’m here! Dave… Rose…”

The Kings couldn’t hear her. Dirk stopped dead in his tracks, and the crew followed his lead. They all gathered around him, curious. Maybe if they made a bunch of noise the Kings would come meet them?

He didn’t get to discuss his idea with the crew. He was distracted by Jane popping into existence high in the sky, above the writhing tentacles. There was another figure next to her, flailing around. Too small and shaded to make out.

A large, silver light shone above Dirk. It glimmered like someone shining a mirror at the sun. He stared up at it.

“Uh, Jade.”

“Yes Dirk?”

“Why is there an arrow pointing at us?”

“Oh, that’d be Jake! He’s- whoa!”

The ropes cut into Dirk’s hips as a strong gust of wind tried to pick Jade up like a kite. Sollux’s tunic flapped around her, she flailed backwards, and ash went flying _everywhere,_ but Dirk was too strong an anchor for her to go anywhere.

He immediately recognized that it was the kind of artificial wind John used to float people around on. Dirk had been on the receiving end of some of those gusts, mostly as the end goal of some dumbass prank. Jane must have gotten the strength of it wrong, and she wasn’t the type of person to make mistakes twice.

He twisted his spine and lifted his arm in order to get Jade underneath it. He got her in this fucked up side hug, where her thin legs were still around the back of his hips, before the next gust of wind snatched both of them into the air. All the wind was focused on Jade. If the ropes snapped, or if his grip faltered, he’d fucking fall. He wiggled in the bonds to get a better angle so gravity wouldn’t hurt her weak body.

The crew lunged for Dirk’s legs, crying out various expletives and objections, but only Feferi caught his ankle. She was too light to do anything. She let go once Jade and Dirk soared a couple feet in the air. Feferi landed safely in a poof of ash. Dirk twisted to full-frontal hug Jade, his arms around her waist and back, her chin pressed into his shoulder. The ropes still held fast around their hips. He clung to her tight as Jane plucked her from the city and lifted them both far above the tiers.

Inertia swam through his head, his stomach flipped, his feet dangled in the air. Panic seethed through his heart when he was launched much, much higher than he’d ever been in his life. It didn't help that he felt the weight of gravity tug at the ropes, around his arms, that the only lifeline of safety was a god that looked like she was about to crumble into dust at any moment. The wind roared around his ears, barely louder than his heart. He dug his fingers into Jade's skin.

"You're okay," Jade cooed against his shoulder. "You're okay, Dirk. I'm with you. I'll keep you safe!"

Her words felt like getting his sea legs back. Everything balanced out, and he knew the mechanics and distance and speed of the wind, and he no longer felt afraid of the great emptiness beneath him. The city and its tiers, and the farmland and forest sprawled out along the continent, was a landscape painting beneath them. The sun hit the hills just right, a huge stretch of rolling green fields that spanned the horizon.

They were slightly tilted, with Jade being pulled upwards and Dirk following along, although he was so large compared to her thin body that the scales evened out and they were mostly flying in a standing embrace. Jade made an attempt to hug him in return, but she couldn't keep her arms up. Her short bob slapped him in the face from the violent winds. He peered around the back of her head to watch their trajectory.

The wind was so fucking loud. It was cold up here. Dirk held Jade tighter. They were even with, and rapidly approaching, Jane, Jake, and that god-stealing spinny medallion.

Jake was bawling. Loud and broken. He was just fucking wrecked. Smashed into pieces. Dirk was probably responsible for most of that. He didn't feel guilty, he was too pissed at Jake to feel guilty, but he did feel stupid-- what he told Jake wasn't accurate.

"I don't want it!" Jake screamed at Jane. He was apparently the only god who could talk at a normal fucking volume. "Jane, stop, please! I don't want any more! I'm going to bungle everything up!"

She scoffed, not even looking at him as she scolded him. “You are a prince of this country and a member of the esteemed silk house of Harley, and you have gone through far tougher trials than this! Man up! Don't be such a baby!”

Jade ignored all that, and instead turned her head to the side, in order to peer under Dirk's armpit and scan the mass of writhing tentacles encompassing the royal plaza below them.

"Where are you guys?" Jade said, her voice scratchy and pathetic and needy. "I can't find you... I'm so weak, I hate this..."

They hovered to a stop a couple feet away from Jake and Jane. Because Jade couldn't get the volume, Dirk yelled her words for her. "Hey! We can't see you through all these goddamned tentacles! Where are you!?"

"We're here, sister," Rose called, loud, from an indeterminate area of black tendrils. "I wish I could hear your voice!"

"Jade, you can hear me, right? Listen to me very carefully," Dave's voice boomed. "We’re gonna wait this one out. A contrived series of events has to happen in order for us to get both you and John back, but all four of us _will_ hug it out in less than two hours. It's inevitable, baby. We've reached family reunion singularity. And if Dirk fucks it up in the likely worst case scenario, we just rip the souls outta these two asshole siblings and kill 'em, because apparently that works out fine."

If Dirk fucks _what_ up? He hated having responsibility without knowing what the hell he was responsible for. At least he didn't have to worry about the Kings reuniting, or being restored, or whatever.

But god, he didn't want Jake to die. He was mad, he was heartbroken, he was drenched in despair, but he was still in love, in the end. He just had to not fuck it up, whatever that meant.

"Okay!" Jade croaked, trying her hardest to be loud. "I trust you!"

Jane seemed miffed that they weren't paying attention to her. She kept screaming at Jake in Common. "Jake, we are going to die if you don’t even the odds! I need another god to help me push these invaders out! Don’t you want to help me!?”

Jake’s tears drifted upward in huge streams, his hair whooshing straight back, his black dress billowing up between his legs. Jane managed to figure out a wind pattern that made him fairly stable, although he was still flailing his arms around like he was trying to learn how to swim. “No, Jane, you don’t understand!” he sobbed over the roar of the wind. “I’m just going to make it worse! I really do want to help you but I can’t do anything! I’m useless! I can’t control what I have, so what makes you think I can control even more of this crazy god hootenanny!?”

“Why can’t you at least try!? There’s _no reason_ not to try!” she screamed. She gestured at Dirk. “Maybe you’re lying to me! Maybe you’ve grown soft on these pirates; you’ve spent too much time with these unsavory characters! How can you even be attracted to this tattooed fiend!?”

Jake looked like Jane just stabbed him in the stomach. Dirk yelled back, "You can't judge Jake when you fucked _Vriska Serket!"_

"Purely for the sake of distraction!" yelled Jane, offended. "Why _ever_ would I be into her soft, small body, and her dramatic scarring, and the subtle weakness of her blind side, and- and the sweetly round curve of her forearm and the injury that perfectly limits her actions...!?"

Dirk blinked a few times. "Uh, hey, Jane!? What the fuck!?"

"You fetishizing her like that is a little insensitive!" Jade croaked.

"It is not insensitive! Why would it be insensitive!?" sputtered Jane. "And I don't have any sort of fetish at all!"

Dirk rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I'm sure she doesn't give a shit! She'd be happy to 'arm' you-- that's like fisting, but with her stump!"

Dirk helpfully wiggled his left side, around where Vriska lost her forearm, then let go of Jade for half a second to make an 'up yours' motion with it. Jade found this hilarious. Jane turned bright red, and flew into a rage. “Jake! Stop pussyfooting around! Take the rest of her powers already!”

Jake nervously reached for the medallion, and plucked it from the air. He held it out in front of him, hands shaking, and pointed it towards Jade. His tears wobbled into the sky. 

“Don’t fucking do this, Jake,” yelled Dirk. “Don’t you _dare_ let your sister shit all over you too!”

“Stop, I don’t care! What’s it matter!?” Jake sobbed, his face contorting into painful shapes. “You said it yourself! I can’t do anything right on my own, I’m _always_ going to need somebody directing me! I might as well pick the hand _I_ want to guide me!”

Jade whimpered out, “Jake, no, we love you…” But Jake could not hear it over Dirk yelling, “You _don’t_ want this, you absolute moron! You don’t want _any_ of this!” 

Jake clenched his jaw. He held the medallion steady. It started to spin. Panicked, Dirk continued hollering, “You’re fucking right, dude! What makes you think you can control the rest of my King’s powers!? You _can’t,_ you’re just going to make everything worse than it is!”

Jake didn’t reply. His pupils were the size of pinpricks. Great blades of glowing power lashed out from Jade and were pulled into the swirl of the medallion. Dirk desperately clung to her as she began to evaporate into the medallion, into Jake.

“Dirk,” she said, as she wasted away. Dirk’s hug got smaller and smaller. She tilted her head up against his chest, and her cheeks were hollow. “Dirk… Please be nice to Jake… You have to save him…”

“I don’t want to save him,” he told her, quietly, but he ached when he said it.

She mouthed something to him, with dry lips, but it was too late. She vanished into dust as the last vestiges of power were sucked into Jake. Dirk was left holding Sollux’s tunic. Gravity welled in his heart, and he fell backwards into the mass of tentacles a thousand feet below. 

He let go of the tunic, and it fluttered into the sky. He fell like he was diving. The wind roared around his ears, his skirt billowed at his legs, he watched Jake and Jane get smaller and smaller. He was pretty blasé about falling to his death. He thought the Star King’s magical assurances were still affecting him. 

Jake shrieked. "Dirk's falling!"

No shit. What did he think would happen? Jane sure wasn’t going to rescue an evil pirate who keeps getting in the way.

Jake’s shrinking form flickered green. Like lightning was coursing through him. And just like that, he vanished. It reminded Dirk of a sunspot on his eye, how shadows and forms would reappear and disappear in a couple blinks.

There was a hiss of electricity. A flash of light. Jake reappeared right next to Dirk. Falling and out of control and flailing around. He did nothing but scream and bawl for two seconds before teleporting again, this time popping up far above Jane, all twisted around so the momentum from his fall launched him upwards. He made a really pathetic looking arc in the sky, streaming a rainbow of tears behind him, before falling a bit and then teleporting again.

“Jake!” hollered Jane. “What are you doing!? Stop fooling around!”

He flashed into existence far to Dirk’s left. Yeah, he was definitely not controlling the Star King’s powers consciously. Jake couldn’t do this.

Dirk heard the cawing of crows over the roar of the wind, and a rush of avians slammed into his back. Feathers, wings, and bodies encompassed him, and slowed his fall, until he was within range of Rose’s massive body. When his trajectory was slow enough, she plucked him from the sky with one of her tentacles, and brought him beneath the great mass of black. She set him down on his back, so he was laying on the marble floor, looking up at the clouds.

It was like being beneath a forest canopy. It was quite dark and quiet. The tentacles swarmed all over the place like hungry worms. They made pleasant flopping noises. Dirk heard the clack-clack of a nice pair of heels against the tile, and the Dead King leaned over him. He was back to normal— fancy outfit, fancy hat, black cloak, no melting skin.

"Well, dude. Bad news bears. You fucked it up," said Dave.

Of course he did. "Fuck _what_ up?"

"You gotta be nice to Jake."

Great. He was supposed to convince Jake to give back the Star King's powers instead of allowing him to take the rest. Dirk dragged a hand down his face. "Jake doesn't respond to nice."

"You’re only saying that ‘cuz you’re cranky. He responds just fine, it just takes literal months of persistence," said Dave. Well, Dirk didn't have literal months. He had like, two minutes. Dave held out his hand, and Dirk took it. Dave pulled Dirk to his feet. "Too late now."

There was another static-like flash above the wall of tentacles, then the sound of Jake screaming nonsensically and poofing out of the immediate area.

"You gonna kill him?" Dirk asked, trying not to sound like a dejected puppy.

"Maybe. Probs," said Dave, shrugging. "There's some outliers here and there. Jake's blocking off the fate threads again but I recall one batshit one in particular... Uh... stand over here for a sec."

The Dead King clapped his hands around Dirk's shoulders, then physically lifted him and shuffled him a couple steps to the left. Jake popped back into existence somewhere above them, screamed for a couple seconds, then immediately popped back out. Dave set Dirk down, took a step back, and made an overexaggerated artist's framing pose with his fingers made into a square. Unsatisfied, he pushed Dirk forward a couple steps. He stood back, and analyzed his work.

"Yeah, that looks ri-"

Jake slammed into reality four inches away from Dirk, physically tackling him with enough force to take the both of them to the broken marble floor. Dirk grunted when he hit it, but managed to land on his back so as to not harm himself. He gripped Jake tight to him as soon as he could.

"No!" Jake screamed, into Dirk's face. Violent tears splattered onto his cheeks and neck. Jake writhed in his hold. "No! Don't touch me! Get away from me! I don't want to look at you! I don't want-"

Dirk tingled all over, like someone was icing him down. There was a flash of green light. They vanished.


	22. Morning Star (Reprise)

They were falling again, plunging headfirst towards the ground. It was freezing cold. Dirk was lightheaded.

The Star King's magic had worn off. Adrenaline and panic coursed through him like acid. He craned his neck up, and his senses were thrown into confusion at the curve of the horizon spreading out like a miniature model below them. The Floating City was a tiny spattering of civilization directly beneath them, Rose's tentacles were an ink blot on the white palace. The country spread out in jagged shapes of forests and mountains along the water. The bright blue ocean stretched mindbogglingly far into the distance and shimmered with the pale late morning sun.

It'd be beautiful if he wasn't having a heart attack. Jake was scream-sobbing in his arms, his tears flying out of his eyes and freezing in little snowy orbs. Dirk gripped Jake's shoulders, trying to shake him into coherency. It was really hard to shake someone while falling at breakneck speeds.

"Do something!" Dirk yelled in his face, over the crippling roar of the wind. "Teleport us turnways!"

"I can't!" Jake screamed. "I don't know how to use these blasted powers! We're gonna _diiiieeee!"_

Not entirely accurate: _Dirk_ was going to die, god!Jake could probably piece himself back together. He had to snap Jake out of this. He could do this. Remember what the Dead King said. Be nice to Jake. Be nice to Jake. Fuck, it was so hard right now.

"Jake!" Dirk screamed. It was so hard to hear over the galestorm in his ears. "I'm sorry for what I said!"

"No you're not!" Jake sobbed in reply. "You're just saying that because I'm the only one that can prevent your untimely death and I'm too flustered to even try!"

"Alright! You got me! I’m not sorry at all, I’m really fucking pissed at you! But- but that doesn't mean I was right!"

Jake's mouth parted, and he looked at Dirk with long lashes and watery eyes that reflected the clouds around them. He was so vulnerable. A wave of desire washed through Dirk, and he remembered why he loved Jake.

"I'm sorry I told you that you couldn't do anything right, because it's not true!" yelled Dirk. "You stole a god! You've gotten yourself out of sticky situations with no help from any of us! You seduced me a billion times! You seduced _everyone_ a billion times! You lied to me for months! You almost killed the people who mean the world to me! You almost trapped me alone in this country with you, you almost got _everything_ you thought you wanted! And the only reason you didn't get it is because I'm going to do _anything_ to stop you!"

Jake's face bunched up into more ugly-crying. "B-but all that means bunk, because I'm still mucking everything up the wazoo and you’re gonna diiiiieeeeeee…"

Dirk gripped Jake's shoulders, desperately. The ground rushed closer, he could see less of the sea, the warmth of the world was returning. “Yeah, you're crying, you're pathetic, you're a heartless wreck, but you know what? None of that matters at all! It’s never gotten in the way of what you want to accomplish! You're _still_ going to save me right now, because even though you steal my gods and hate the world and let my friends burn, you _still_ have a literal fucking crumb of love in your heart for me. And goddammit, despite all the shit you just put me through, the fact you love me, even just a little, _means everything to me.”_

Jake's eyes blinked open wide, in shock. The numbness flickered all over Dirk's body, and they were yanked from the pull of gravity in a flash of green.

He teleported them turnways. The ground above was replaced with the sky above, and the force of their fall launched them into the air a short distance. They slowed, and began to descend once more. Dirk glanced down just in time to see the ocean rapidly approaching them, straightened both himself and Jake as much as he could, and took a deep breath. 

They plunged into the warm water. The sunlight flickered in spiderweb patterns above them. Dirk took the brunt of the impact by design, but it didn’t hurt his feet too much. Jake immediately started panicking underwater, trying to flail out of Dirk’s grip, but Dirk held fast. He kicked up to the surface with Jake at his waist, and they breached the still water with a simultaneous gasp for air. Dirk’s ears were ringing from the comparative silence of the calm ocean.

“I can’t swim!” Jake gasped, panicked. He scrambled for Dirk’s shirt with his fingernails.

“I know, I know, I got you,” said Dirk, forcing Jake to contort into a fetal position. Once he got Jake's legs bent, he turned him around and positioned him in an underwater bridal style carry. Jake's shoulders and head were above water. It was easy to hold him like this. Dirk had to kick a little harder than normal to keep treading water, but it was cool. He had swole calves.

Jake immediately calmed the fuck down in this position. He didn't relax into the hold, but his breathing evened. They were both soaked, so Dirk couldn’t tell if Jake was still crying. He didn’t look it. He just looked… tentative.

“’Kay, we’re safe,” said Dirk, huffing, trying to calm his heart rate. “Nobody’s falling anymore. Let’s take a breather. Talk it out.”

Jake bit his lip. “I can’t. I have to go back and help Jane out of her tizzy…”

Dirk's emotions were rapidly seesawing between fondness and frustration, and they cranked _hard_ to the red-faced rage part of the scale. “Look, dude, the Kings are going to sit around until we come back. You can help your sister with her coup later. You can kill your mom all you want, I don’t care, hell, I’ll help you hold the dagger steady. But you _have_ to give Jade back to us. Like, right the fuck now. Do you have the medallion or did Jane take it back, I didn’t see who-”

“Jane’s not going to commit an act of matricide,” Jake said, registering Dirk’s words. “That’d be cruel!”

Dirk stared at Jake. The water lapped against their shoulders. What the fuck did he think a coup was. Dirk thought that Jane might have lied to him, or at least omitted the truth, about the eventual fate of their mother in order to keep Jake complacent.

“Uh, she is. Not sure how you missed that.”

Jake’s face shot into a frown. “No, mother’s probably fine! Hold on!”

Dirk felt all his skin tingle, and barely interjected a loud “goddammit” before they flashed into a dungeon.

Dirk’s feet flopped onto cold stone ground, and the textural dissonance was so offputting he nearly dropped Jake. It was the torture room the Star King showed him, in one of the spindly towers. A small circular room with a pencil thin window held a simple table and two chairs. There was a bright lantern hanging from the ceiling. The walls were lined with hundreds of scalpels, chains, gears, and other various pokey torture instruments. It smelled like blood. Vriska was still handcuffed to the table, blinking at them.

"Strider, why are you all wet?” she said, more disgusted than surprised. “Whatever, let me outta here! There's a lockpick in the usual spot! And hurry it up, I need to pee soooooooo bad!”

Dirk set Jake down, to the soundtrack of a bunch of water spattering all over the floor. Dirk leaned over the table, held onto Vriska’s upper arm, and yanked off the hook and supplementary prosthesis with one smooth pluck. Jake winced at the popping noise it made.

"What's going on out there?” asked Vriska. Dirk slid the prosthesis out of the handcuff and started unscrewing the black cap. Vriska did some stretches with her free arm. “Condy's guards and Crocker's guards are having a fight two floors up as far as I can tell. Don’t think Crocker’s doing so hot, all her forces are pretty scattered.”

“Dead King and Sea King took over the city, Jane’s throwing a tantrum, Jake took the rest of the Star King and _is going to give her powers back.”_ He paused to glare at Jake. Jake smiled, nervously. Dirk got the cap off the wooden extender that hooked into the stump under her elbow, and revealed the interior. It was filled with lockpicks and scalpels, and one extra eyepatch. “Oh, yeah, by the way, would you tell Jake what a coup is? He doesn’t seem to grasp the whole ‘death to the current ruler’ thing.”

Vriska beamed, flashing her best, and sang, “Your sister’s gonna kill your mooooooom~!”

Jake stamped his foot. "My sister _isn't_ going to kill my mom!"

Dirk eyed the lock, a keyhole on the top of the handcuffs. He selected the two best tools for the job, and got to work. He hit the first two tumblers immediately. Score. 

"Oh, she's gonna kill your fucking mom," said Vriska, snort laughing. She gestured with her stump, her empty sleeve flapping around in the air. “She had it all planned out too! Her personal guards would do the job while Condy was distracted with _me!_ I would have loved to see it.”

Dirk got the next three with some careful listening and poking. The handcuff opened with a satisfying clink. Vriska twirled her wrist around, freed.

"And won't it feel good when she's dead?” Vriska continued. “You'll finally get a good heaping of revenge. And I bet it'll be _orgasmic."_

"Revenge for what? I don't understand!"

Dirk set the lockpicks into their place, and screwed the hook-cap back onto Vriska’s prosthesis. Vriska rubbed her nail-less thumb on her jacket, before doing some arm stretches and standing up. She cracked her back, then flashed another grin at Jake. Dirk moved to stand next to him. 

"Look, kiddo," said Vriska, propping her foot up on the table and leaning on her leg. "You're a reeeeeeeeally fucked up guy. And like, I'm kinda into that, you know? You remind me of _me,_ in this super pathetic inverted wimpy way, I guess. You could be really awesome if you just got over all your stupid arbitrary problems. You suck so hard right now but I want to make you _better."_

Jake did not take that as a compliment. Vriska waved her empty sleeve around as she continued. "And I get it. I know exactly why you suck so much. It's 'cuz you don't see that your mom and your sister and this weird prostitute gig are screwing you over. You understand you're not happy but you think it's because you're not good enough, or because you don't follow rules well enough, or because you don’t want to make a connection when everybody around you is such a fucking loser.”

Vriska leaned forward, lashed out for Jake’s collar, and yanked him to her. Panicked, he tried to duck away from her terrifying face three inches from his, but she held fast.

"Those things ain't the problem. It's your environment, baby. Your iron's been burning up and you're too used to the temperature," said Vriska, in a saucy voice. "C'mon, Jake. Go outside. Live a little. Have some fun."

"Um..."

Vriska beamed. "And what's more fun then killing your mom!? Come on, she’s right upstairs! Let's go, I'll help!"

"No!?"

Vriska dropped his collar when he started to flash. Dirk full body tackled Jake just in time for the next teleportation jump.

It was nighttime. Their clothes were dry, like everything just evaporated in a quick snap. A gigantic moon, white as the snow, hung above them in the pitch black night. The ‘floor’ below them was a solid plane of dark water, just a bit moist on the pads of their feet. It rippled as they steadied themselves. Dirk recognized this place.

Jake saw her first.

“No…” he said. Then, louder, “No!” 

And the waterworks returned. The Star King, healthy and restored and with her long hair and black dress floating in an unfelt wind, stood a few feet away from them. She was smiling, tender, and her hands were clasped at her waist. Dirk felt the serenity radiating from her, and it calmed him. 

"Hi Jake," said Jade, with a soft, loving tone. "I'm glad you dropped by."

“I didn’t mean to come here!” he shrieked. He tried to run, but Dirk took hold of him, and Jake could not scramble away. He clawed at Dirk’s arms, in a panic, but Dirk barely felt it. “Please don’t hurt me!”

“Don’t be silly, I love you!” said Jade, sweetly.

“You can't love me!” Jake cried. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Realizing he could not get away, he went as still as a corpse. “I've been nothing but mean and vile to you! I stole your powers! I hurt you! I murdered you!"

"I'm not human, Jake," said Jade. "I feel things a little bit differently! You could burn me alive a thousand times over and I still wouldn't love you any less! Do you know why?"

Jake couldn't seem to find the words. Frozen and terrified, he barely managed to shake his head, 'no.'

"I adored tagging along with you, but those two months on the _Black Diamond_ meant everything to me," said Jade. "I can see into your heart now, my love! You're a liar. You're clever. You're a misfit. And you're just the right kind of evil. You’re my family."

"I'm- I'm not any of those things! I don't want to _be_ any of those things!" screamed Jake. "I want to be good, I just want to be good, I just want to be respected and looked up to and _not so damn useless anymore!_ I want to-”

"Jake," interrupted Jade, smiling gently. She extended her arms, as though to embrace him. "You don't have to be what they tell you."

Jake made a choking noise, like he was going to hurl, and they flashed into a garish, sunlit room.

The carpet was too soft. Dirk and Jake toppled over into a pile of squeaky dragons. They made a sad trumpeting noise when Dirk faceplanted into them. Literally all of them smelled like wax crayons. Dirk didn't have to look around to know where Jake took them.

Which. Okay. Why the fuck did his subconscious decide to teleport them to the lighthouse at the Velvet Court? The Star King reminded him of pirates or something?

Dirk peeled himself off the plushies and made eye contact with Terezi’s homemade dragon slippers. He looked up. She wore a fluffy red robe. She had a toothbrush shoved in her mouth. She still had her sword at her belt despite the jammies. There was a crow on her shoulder. It opened its beak, and whispered something just for her.

She blinked at Dirk, then at Jake, then walked to the nearest porthole window and spat all her backwash out of it. She then hurled her toothbrush at Eridan, sitting with his gun in the corner, and yelled, "Catch!"

He did not catch it. It smacked him wetly in the face. Dirk stood up. Jake was still face down in a sad, moaning pile of plush. Dirk toed Jake lightly, in the ribs. Jake did not move.

"Get up, English," said Terezi, standing over Jake. Jake still didn't move. "You've got to get up and restore our King!"

She smacked his back with the flat of her sword and he yelped. He scrambled up to his knees, and wiped his remaining tears away with the heel of his hand. He was quivering.

"Obey me!" cackled Terezi. "I'm your queen!"

"You're not my queen! I’m a friggin’ prince!" stammered Jake. He clenched his fists at his sides and tried to regain his dignity. "I'm absolutely baffled as to why Miss Jade thinks I'm one of your wretched family members! I'm no pirate!”

"Why not? You spent two months on a pirate ship!" said Terezi. She stuck the point of her sword at his throat and tilted his chin up. "And I've been told you've got the heart for it. Ever think about becoming a bad guy?"

"You're turning this into a recruitment program?" asked Dirk, folding his arms. "He’s been acting against us since day one."

"Correct! Exactly the kind of bottom feeder we want playing for our team!"

Dirk hadn’t really thought about it like that. He never considered Jake becoming a pirate beyond his own greedy and implausible fantasies. And he didn’t consider Jake’s talents a skill for pirating until now: lies and seduction would come in handy for under-the-table trade route deals or rallying up someone else’s crew, as long as Jake would want to do it. And if he didn’t, Dirk would be happy to have Jake along with them on their adventures, even though he hadn’t mastered any sailing skills yet.

Eridan spoke up from his corner seat. "Just between you and me, noble to noble, purple blood to purple blood... The perks of piratin’ are a fuckin' joy. Get to kill whoever you want, dress however you like, etc etc."

Weirdly, Jake seemed more comfortable with a sword under his chin than without. "Killing strangers isn't a perk! I'm not rotten, not like you rapscallions!"

Dirk raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what he told Dirk last night.

"Mr. English, I don't think you understand yourself very well," said Terezi. She took a moment to listen to something the crow whispered to her, then continued. "You are already rotten, and dark, and corrupt beneath all your soft marshmallow skin. Nevermind how you got here, or where you’re going, you are a thief _at this very moment._ Thus, it is up to you how you utilize your black heart! And I believe the just course of action is to _not_ help the power hungry kingdom who hates you, and instead fall in with those who would treasure your abilities. And will perhaps come to treasure _you."_

"I don't want to be treasured by- by people who don't matter!"

"I don't matter? But you have impressed me! The Pirate Queen herself!" said Terezi. She lowered her sword and tapped it against the floor, then flourished her arm as though showing off her grand domain. "And in my objectively correct opinion, that is the best possible person you could impress!"

Jake opened his mouth to say something, but faltered. He glanced at Dirk, guilty, like it just occurred to him that exactly _one_ pirate’s opinion mattered to him. He winced, and stood up. He brushed down his skirts.

“I wouldn’t do well as a thief of the high seas anyway,” he grumbled, unable to argue with Terezi without sounding heartless. “I’m shit at sailing. I can’t measure up.”

"Then change the damn measurement!" said Terezi, smacking him with her sword again. "Get a whole different ruler!"

“Ow! Hey!” said Jake, flailing his arms around. He began to flicker. “Stop hitting me!”

Dirk grabbed Jake’s sleeve quick enough to catch the next teleportation jump.

They were in a dark room lit almost entirely by rapid gunfire.

Dirk and Jake both slammed their hands over their ears. It took a minute for their eyes to adjust. It was all the _Black Diamond_ crew, sans Vriska, holed up in a bourgeoisie house in an entryway they had barricaded with random pieces of furniture. Everyone but Karkat was crowded around the two windows so tightly that not a lot of light shone through, and they were either firing guns out of it or slashing outside with long swords. Dirk figured they were fighting off Jane or Condy’s forces.

They all noticed the appearance of Jake and Dirk one-by-one, and all gave Jake dirty glares. Karkat, who was sitting on a stool and watching everything go down, spun around on it, his legs crossed.

“Well, well, well,” he yelled, but he was always yelling. “The prodigal son returns to the family he fucking _betrayed._ Not so high and mighty now when you realize we’re the raddest people you’ll ever meet, huh!?”

“Yeah, boooo!” said Roxy, in between rifle volleys. “How could you do it to us like that, Jake!?”

“Did our bonding over the fine arts of decomposition mean nothing?” said Aradia, pouting as she threw a severed hand over her shoulder. “I thought we were corpse bros!”

Jake was tensed up and wincing, and Dirk wondered if he actually felt guilty. Dirk held out his hands, a ‘calm down’ motion. He yelled over the gunfire. “No, guys, get this. We’re thinking about this all wrong. I just came back Terezi’s place. If Jake becomes a pirate, and he’s working for our side, all this mean sociopath crafty shit he can pull becomes a _boon._ All the Kings say he’s one of the Right People and I’m starting to think that makes sense.”

Jake looked at Dirk like, ‘oh god, not you too.’ All the pirates stopped firing and slicing for one silent second, glanced around at each other, then continued the battle like nothing happened. Gunfire and the guards’ screams echoed through the room.

“Shit, yeah, like he could rub elbows with dukes and armadas,” said Sollux, reloading his crossbow. “Distract whole fleets by dining with their captains.”

“Or he can just be a normal surgeon if he wants!” said Aradia, and took a moment to smile at him. “I can always use the backup.”

Jake curled his lip, weirded out that they all pivoted their perception of him on a dime. “Don’t you remember? I’m absolute scum at ship shape activities.”

“Whale, of course! We’ve been doing it for fifteen years!” chirped Feferi. “You’re gonna stink compared to us! And honestly? Who cares! As long we all have fun together and contribute.” 

“Didn’t you have fun with us, Jake?” asked Roxy, screaming over the bullets she was firing. “We’ve gotta be more fun than your stuffy sex slave palace!”

“It’s not- Whatever,” stammered Jake. He was beginning to flush with embarrassment. “And I suppose I had fun, but you’re all evil and wild and rats of the sea!”

Karkat raised his arms to the sky, like he was trying to call down lightning on this buffoonery. “And that’s why we’re so fucking awesome!? Get your head out of your snooty ass. You’re no better than any of us.”

“Karcat’s right! That’s why we’d love to have you on our ship!” said Nepeta, happily, and began chanting, “One of us… one of us…”

“But first,” said Equius, his baritone voice audible over a blunderbuss shot, even at a normal volume. “You must restore our King.”

Jake pulled at his hair. “I get it already! I get it! Save the Star King, save the Star King, blah blah I _get it!”_

Jake began flashing, green and white, and Dirk pressed his hand to Jake’s shoulder in order to catch the next jump.

A cloudy, calm sky. Pleasantly chill air. Nobody around them. Trees above. Soft, green grass beneath their feet. A stream behind them. The burial cave they fucked in set against a pool to their right. The Isle of the Dead. It was a welcome reprieve after how loud the last locales were. 

“Sorry,” muttered Jake, staring at the ground. “I don’t intend to go to any of these places, not really… I guess I needed somewhere quiet to get all my marbles in a row.”

Jake flopped to the grass. He sat in a crosslegged position and moped. Dirk sat down next to him, in the same position, so their knees touched.

Jake wasn’t saying anything. Dirk stared at the dark splotches of cypress trees swaying in the breeze. He didn’t know about Jake, but Dirk felt _much_ better about everything after jumping around. He’d figured his soul had forgiven Jake, after rehashing all this, after seeing the points of view of his friends and gods.

The reactions of Dirk’s crew settled it: Dirk was reverting back to his original plan. He would take Jake out of this country, even if he had to tie him up and drag him kicking and screaming. Dirk would save Jake, no matter the cost. All that was needed was for Jake to return the Star King to power.

The wind smelled of clean wet stone. It was gentle, here. The lapping of the water against the shore, the rustling of the leaves, the soft plink of dew droplets in the tombs. The song of the Isle could sing him to sleep. 

Dirk opened his eyes when Jake shifted against his leg. Jake was pensive, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands.

"What if I give your Star King back," Jake mused. "What happens then? Will you give me a pat on the back and abandon me to my woeful fate?"

"No, I'd take you with me," said Dirk.

Jake frowned, jerking his head toward Dirk. "I don't want to leave my kingdom. My sister will need support to placate the up-and-ups whose houses got ransacked by your Dead King. Don't want them throwing a rebellion early in her career!"

"That's too bad," said Dirk, trying not to think about Jake 'placating' a bunch of rich, greedy people. "I'll be kidnapping you whether you want to go or not."

Jake straighted out, alarmed. "Jeezy creezy, um, fuck no!? I have to help my sister! I have to help my country!"

"Why do you care? You said yourself that you don't care about anyone. Just leave."

"I need to prove that I'm worth something! To mother and Jane and Aetria!"

Dirk suspected that Jake really only cared about one of those. 

"Jake. Listen to me. This is a hard lesson but you have to learn it:" said Dirk, dead serious. He rotated on his ass to face Jake, clapped his hands to Jake's cheeks, and stared him dead in the eye. "Your mother is a bitch and _nothing you do will make her proud of you."_

Jake scowled, curling his lip. "Well, that's because I haven't done anything right yet. There's nothing to be proud of, dumb dumb!"

"That's just your perception. Like TZ said, change the measuring stick and you're suddenly gonna measure up, it's all-"

Jake brushed Dirk’s hands away. He looked at Dirk all sore, like Dirk just slapped him.

"Stop it, I know what you're going to push out of your claptrap and none of that friggin' matters," said Jake, rubbing his chest. "I'm all screwed up and evil and rotten and I'm a downright cheating lying slippery silverfish who's obsessed with getting my knob polished. The right thing to do is to help my sister manage these Kings and pull off her coup d'état, because it's what I'm made for. It's so clear, Dirk! It’s the right thing to do! Don't you think I should at least _try_ to be a better person? Don't you think I should at least try to do something right for once in my life?"

Dirk stared at him, and thought of Jake's life. He thought of a thousand hands touching Jake, he thought of all the terrible things that must have been done to Jake since childhood. He thought of how Jake perceived everyone as dolls because it made it hurt less when they all objectified him, or rejected him, or hurt him. He thought of how Jake liked having sex so much because he was _trained_ to like having sex so much. He thought of how for Jake, love and lust were so disparate from each other that Jake could literally not imagine falling in love with someone he fucked.

He thought of the ordeals Jake went through to get some, _any,_ respect from his mother, and how throwing the entire _Black Diamond_ crew and two of the Kings under the bus was so utterly pointless, how his mother would never ever care. He thought of how Jake's self worth depended entirely on how much people lusted after him, or how much his mom respected him. He thought of how Jake's entire body, personality, and soul had been shaped by a lifetime of abuse, and Dirk said, "No."

Jake blinked at him, alarmed. "Huh?"

"No, fuck it. All this shit about goodness and prestige and 'doing things right?' Throw it away. It's worthless," said Dirk. "That darkness you feel? Your lies, your cruelty, your sociopathy? Embrace it. Be evil. Be rotten. Mess shit up. Do nothing right. My gods adore your dark heart. _I_ adore your dark heart. Let it grow even darker."

It sunk in more when Dirk said it than when Terezi said it, or when Rose said it, way back when. But Jake still didn’t get it. "Why? I stole your Kings. I almost let your friends die. I've hurt you so much."

"Because I'm black hearted too. In a different way, but we’re birds of a feather, dude. I enjoy violence, the act of killing. I love punishment and torture and getting angry. And I'm clingy, obsessive, possessive." Dirk slid the curve of his hand along the side of Jake's throat, going against the grain of the velvet. "I'm _really_ possessive."

Jake swallowed, but leaned into the touch. Dirk curled his thumb beneath the band of black, making it tighter. Jake's lips parted. Dirk continued on, thinking of how he'd rather Jake wear a different kind of band.

"Give me the chance and I’ll pillage and burn entire navies to the ground. I'll destroy cities. I'll steal everything I can get my hands on. I'll- I’ll kidnap the beautiful prince from his white tower, and I'll carry him away into the sunset where we'll kiss atop the mainmast and fall madly in love and elope on the golden sands beyond the sea."

Jake blushed, despite himself. It was a wonderful happy ending, and one that Dirk couldn't give him. Mostly because Dirk didn't really believe in endings. But also because life never worked out quite as well as all the romance novels said.

"I’m not… I wouldn’t do well as a skullduggerer," Jake said, glancing away from Dirk. His blush faded. "You're all about 'not telling people what to do' but what if I need that because I'm so fantastically incompetent?"

"If you want new rules and brandings, I'll give you new rules and brandings," said Dirk, and nodded toward his own tattoos. "I'll carve them into your skin myself, if you ask for them. But these velvet brands? I hate them. And I can't take it anymore. I'm so fucking done looking at them. I'm cutting them off."

Dirk reached behind him for the knife stuck in his belt. He unsheathed it, flipped it over the back of his hand, and repeated, "I'm cutting them off."

Jake eyed the knife, then eyed Dirk, then fell forward. Dirk had to fuckin’ slight-of-hand the knife away with how fast Jake toppled into Dirk’s hold. Jake laced his fingers behind Dirk’s shoulders, and collapsed onto Dirk’s lap, so he was hanging off of Dirk, his face inches away. Jake was beautiful as ever. His eyes were puffy and red behind dirty glasses.

"I'm not ready yet," said Jake, sweetly. "Let's make love on the soft grass, right here..."

"No," said Dirk.

"Kiss me then."

"Nuh-uh." Dirk patted Jake’s back, gentle. “C’mon. Get off me. I’ll get your ankles first.”

Jake didn’t move. Dirk raised an eyebrow, an ‘am I going to have to force you?’ sort of eyebrow. But he didn’t have to. Dirk, and all his friends, had eroded Jake’s wall, and it was just weak enough to break through. Jake’s mouth crumpled into a weepy frown.

“I’m sorry…” said Jake, and tears welled in his eyes. “I’m just so scared! I feel like hurling!”

“Hey, hey,” soothed Dirk, and dropped the knife to fully hug Jake. “It’ll be fine. It’ll all work out. You’ll restore the Star King and tomorrow night I’ll be singing to you under the stars in the wide, open ocean.”

“Would you sing to me every night?” he sniffled.

“Every fuckin’ night for the rest of your life.”

He let go of Dirk to wipe his tears away with the back of his hand. “I don’t know if I want to go with you… But will you at least sing to me while you’re in Aetria, if I… If I give Miss Jade back to you?”

“I’d love to,” said Dirk, and Jake crawled off his lap. He sprawled out on the grass, and Dirk shifted so Jake’s ankles were kicked over his thighs. Jake was trembling. Dirk pressed his thumb to the ball of Jake’s foot and massaged the muscle there. Jake was a little calloused from the work on the _Black Diamond._ The breeze rustled through the cool grass.

Dirk grabbed the dagger. Jake shook even harder. Dirk hesitated, and he remembered the song they worked at together a few nights ago, with just them and the stars and a guitar. Dirk absentmindedly hummed the tune of it, and touched Jake’s ankles. Jake stilled a little.

“I once met a sweet prince, on deep quiet seas,” Dirk spoken word-sang, like a whisper, and slid the flat of the knife beneath the velvet band.

“I was entranced by his mystery,” he continued, and he tilted the knife. Jake jolted when it cut through the velvet, but it slipped off his ankle without scratching him.

“He became my dark love, I think we’re meant to be,” Dirk sliced off the other anklet in one stroke. Jake didn’t jolt that time. He nudged Jake’s ankles off his lap, and moved to straddle Jake. 

“My guiding light, my morning star.”

Dirk cupped Jake’s chin, and Jake shut his eyes, tears forming at the edges of his lashes. They shone, in the gray light. Dirk slid the knife under the choker, and cut it through as smooth as he could. Jake sighed. The band fell off him like a dead leaf, and blew away in the breeze of the Isle.

He pressed his forehead to Jake’s, and closed his eyes. He felt electricity all over, and they both escaped from the Isle of the Dead for the second and last time.


	23. Homeward Bound (Instrumental)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _mood music for this chapter: Homeward Bound/The Old Slipper Shoe_
> 
> [[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/6z3bHcbMilislRz5en3leu)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwddsaUVTqk)]

They were falling again. Their heads slammed together with an audible clunk.

"God fucking dammit!" Dirk yelled, flailing around to get both him and Jake straightened out. Jake immediately started screaming.

He had teleported them almost directly above the Floating City palace, close enough that Dirk thought they were going to splat onto the dome roof. But they skimmed right by it, the white walls almost nicking Dirk's shoulder. The tip of the huge archways with the gigantic, red, vertical banners rose up to greet them.

Acting on instinct, Dirk grappled Jake into a safe position and reached out to lash his arm around one of the banners. It held their weight. Dirk's muscles tensed up tight and painful, and together they dragged down the length of the cloth like someone pulling on a bell rope. The severe friction tore the skin off his palm and wrist, and ripped his shirt and burned the rest of his arm to his shoulder. It probably popped out of the socket, but he couldn't hear anything over the sandpaper-like sounds of him skimming down the fabric. He'd dealt with worse in his life, and he ignored the pain. The momentum was still too fast, and Dirk thought his legs would be crushed, but at the very end of the red banner they slowed to a reasonable speed. Dirk landed steady on the flat platform beneath the banner, jutting off the fourth floor of the palace, facing the courtyard.

He didn't realize it, but when falling, he had grabbed Jake under the thighs and was lifting him with one arm. Jake's ass was settled against Dirk's crooked elbow, and his knees were bent sharply so Dirk could get his hand around Jake's shin. Jake was blushing a furious red down at Dirk.

"Oh," said Jake, squirmy. "Out to make a guy swoon and faint in your arms, aren't you."

Dirk's heart was pounding, his adrenaline was sky high, he was feeling indescribably badass after that stunt. He felt alive and in-love. If Jake didn't have so much goddamn baggage, Dirk would have straight up ravished him at that point, on the roof, in public view, with a battered-up arm. Fuck it. He'd make do with a kiss. He'd waited long enough.

He let Jake slip from his grip, and Jake yelped briefly at the sensation of falling, but Dirk caught him by the waist in quick order. He dipped Jake, deep. He took all of Jake's weight.

The sun shone in his black hair. The wind fluttered the edge of the scarlet banner around him. Jake really did look like he was going to swoon. But more importantly, he looked like he was in love. Vulnerable and open and relaxed, and maybe a little nervous. Their eyes were only for each other.

Dirk moved his other hand to cradle Jake's cheek. He realized this was a terrible mistake when these three things happened:

1\. His hand landed with a wet, bloody ‘plop.’  
2\. It left a near perfect handprint of red on Jake's face.  
3\. The pressure on what remained of Dirk's skin sent a barrage of needles up his arm, and the pain was worse than anything he'd experienced in a long time. It was like when he was starting out with poison experimentation and accidentally burned his insides, it was that bad. His vision splotched black, he probably screamed.

Jake somehow regained his balance quick enough to not fall over when Dirk dropped him. He rubbed Dirk's back as Dirk curled in on himself, clutching his forearm. After a few deep breathing exercises and some tentative reassurances from Jake, Dirk recovered. The pain transitioned to a burning ache, ignorable as long as he didn't put pressure on the skinned parts.

He looked into the courtyard, too embarrassed to try and kiss Jake again. The tentacles had cleared out, and the marble beneath was all cracked and battered. There were bodies _everywhere._ Some decrepit and ancient, some bludgeoned to death by tentacles. Almost directly below them were the Dead King, the Sea King, and Jane.

Rose was back to a normal amount of appendages, trimmed to a reasonable length. They branched out from her like roots and held her up. She was picking her teeth with her nails, bored. The Dead King, still fancy as ever, stood above Jane in a solid column of black. Jane was writhing on the ground, like she was having seizures. It took Dirk a while to realize what Dave was doing to her.

He was containing her by decomposing her at the exact rate that she would resurrect herself. Nasty shit. She didn't look pleased, in her moments of awareness.

"Hey!" Dirk called, stepping to the edge of the platform. He crouched down and rested his able hand on the flat of it to steady himself. Jake sat down next to him.

Rose glanced up, and one of her tentacles wiggled a ‘hello.’ Dave tipped his hat to them, but not enough to expose whatever constituted as eyes for him at the moment. Jane made a croaking noise, like she was gargling sand.

"Howdy! I- I'm going to restore the Star King!" Jake called. "But I need the talisman from my sister!"

"A-ah!" Jane shouted, but her throat was half gone. Dave must have taken pity on her or something, because she stopped writhing and everything began growing back normal. It didn't take too long for her flesh to pop back, and her muscles to start working. She rolled onto her stomach, propped herself up on her elbow, and glared up at her brother.

"You what!?" she yelled, fire burning through her voice and eyes.

Jake visibly wilted, but didn't crumble. "I said I want to restore the Star King! And you need to bring back good ol' John too!"

"Why!?" she shrieked, and forced herself to stand on shaky legs. "You said you'd help me!"

"I will, Jane!" cried Jake, sounding sincere. "I'll help you after this! I'll help you deal with all the randy fucks who'll raise cain in the aftermath! I really will! But you were right after all! I grew soft on Strider! We have to give back his gods!"

Jane clenched and unclenched her fists, her long nails scratching her own skin. "That isn't an option! Our capital is in shambles, Jake! How many of our people died in this mess, and how many of them are going to blame it on the coup? We can't expose ourselves to the world! We have to use every resource we can muster!"

Jake shook his head, 'no.' "If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure the other two Kings would kick our keisters if we didn't surrender! We have to quit while we still can!"

Jane cracked. Dirk watched her face pale, her body go stock still. Her mouth parted, and she lost her absolute shit.

With a succinct coldness, she raised her arm, and sent a gust of wind to carry Jake to her from the fourth floor. Dirk couldn't grab onto Jake, not fast enough, and he couldn't have tugged Jake back with only one arm anyway. They screamed each other’s names, and Dirk watched helplessly as Jake was flown to the courtyard ground. Jane set Jake down directly in front of her. The Dead King and Sea King did nothing. They watched with cold stares, and Dirk wondered if he had fucked it up after all.

She stood on her tip toes, to get in Jake's face, and Jake trembled. She gave him a hard look, and then slapped him across the face. Loud, painful, maximum impact. He yelped, clutching his cheek, and when he had recovered enough she slapped him across the opposite side. The blood from Dirk's palm smeared across her hand and Jake's mouth.

"Why are you standing up for yourself _now!?"_ Jane screamed, almost like she was in pain. "After you have done _nothing_ your whole life, why _now!?"_

She punched him in the stomach, with an uppercut. Jake made a noise like he'd deflated, then he crumpled and fell to the ground. He was out of breath, but he tried to crabwalk, away from her. "Jane, please..." he begged, but she kept walking towards him. Desperation and sickness and rage crawled at the back of Dirk's throat.

The Kings did nothing, they just watched. Dirk scraped his fingernails against the platform and yelled, "Jane, do _not_ touch him! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" but she could not hear anything besides her own voice.

She was shrieking like she was about to die, like she got stabbed. "Why did you have to do it _now!?_ You had your whole life to say 'no' and you choose _now_ to say it for the first time!? When it’s going to wreck me!? Why couldn't you have stood up for yourself when mother called you worthless every day, why didn't you ever resist, why did you do nothing!?"

Tears burst from Jane's eyes. She punted him in the ribs, and Jake fell apart. He rolled over, clutching his side in pain, and began openly sobbing. The Dead King took a smooth, gliding step towards Jane. The world shook.

The tiles around Jake cracked and shattered. One near to Jane fell into a void, like into an underground sewer system or something. One of Jane's heels snapped off, but it didn't stop her at all. She ignored everything Jake threw at her.

Dirk had to do something. He couldn't climb down, not with his fucked up arm, not with those bad luck vibes bouncing around everywhere. Dirk pulled out the pistol in the back of his belt, cocked it, aimed at Jane's head, and fired. But all it did was click. Jammed, from the water or the bad luck or all the falling.

She stomped him in the ribs again, and her other heel snapped off. Jake wept and shuddered and screamed. The Dead King walked steady as the tide, ever closer.

"I hate you!" sobbed Jane, tears and fluids pouring out of her face. Her glasses fell off, and shattered against the ground. "I hate you, you spineless, stupid oaf, I hate that you've been shit all over all your life and you learned _nothing,_ that you'd still pick _her_ over me, you'd _still_ pick these _strangers_ over _me!_ What did I do!? What did I ever do!? Why did she choose me over you!? Jake! Are you _fucking listening to me!?_ You should have never stepped out of your lane! Everything is falling apart and it's _all your fault!"_

Jake covered his face and scream-sobbed into his palms. "I know," he screeched. "I know, I know, I know-"

Jane wound up for another kick on Jake's weak body, and Dirk could do nothing but scream her name. The shadow of Death trailed behind Jane as she stood before her brother.

But she didn’t follow through. She stilled, her leg hanging in the air, mid-kick. Her face relaxed, and her mouth parted in realization. Dirk didn’t know what did it. A thought that popped into her head? Jake covering his face? Dave’s shadow, cast across her?

“… I’m killing my brother,” said Jane. She hesitated, then whispered again, “I’m killing my brother.”

She lowered her leg, and stood still. She blinked, quickly, as though trying to clear her eyes. “I’m killing my brother.”

She screwed her eyes shut tight, but it did nothing. What little was left of her control broke. Big, seeping tears flowed down her cheeks and spattered onto her chest, although her voice and body remained steady. “I’m killing my dearest brother.” 

She put the back of her knuckles to her face to wipe it all away, but it she couldn’t mop up everything. Her shoulders shivered, and she hunched forward, and she choked and sniffled like a lost child.

She froze in place when the Dead King placed his long, slender hands along either side of her jawline. Her eyes opened wide like a chasm. He turned her head, and her body rotated with, and he embraced her fully beneath his pitch black cloak.

Dirk thought Dave killed her, for a moment. But her wails began to echo through the empty plaza, her screams somewhat muffled by the Dead King's chest. It was just a hug.

The Sea King slithered to Jake, who was curled up in a fetal position and shivering like he was about to die of hypothermia. With the aid of one of her tentacles, she took Jake into her arms like she was cradling a child. He looped his arms around her slim shoulders and sobbed into her collarbone.

"There there," soothed Rose. She wasn't very good at it, awkwardly patting his back, but her voice was a song. "You've been terrible."

"I'm sorry," sobbed Jake, clinging to Rose. "I'm so sorry! Are you going to hurt me?"

"That would depend on what you're going to do next, love," said Rose.

She whispered something to him, some magic words, and his sobs stilled. He pulled back, and rested his hands on her shoulders. The Sea King wiped his tears away, and the saltwater seeped into her skin. 

"I don't think I can do what you want, Miss..." said Jake, sniffling, and barely loud enough to hear in the empty courtyard. "You want me to become a pirate..."

"Of course I do, your heart has opened enough for me to see your calling," said Rose. "It upsets me when my children stray away, or never find it."

Jake stared at her, and waited. She fixed his hair, smoothing it down where it had been rustled by the wind. She wiped Dirk’s blood off his face, with the end of her tentacle.

"I don't think Dirk's been convincing you in the way he should be, although infatuation is indeed a powerful tool," said Rose, gesturing towards Dirk with her chin. "Considering taking up a lifestyle _only_ because of a beautiful boy is no good at all, dear."

Huh, really? Dirk knew he was important to Jake, but he didn't think he was _that_ important.

“So let me pose the question that counts. Life is short, and you will suffer and die no matter what path you choose, love. So how would you rather die?”

Jake stared at her, tears dripping down his cheeks. She continued on. “Will your soul crumble and waste away amidst gold and power? Or will you suffer with calloused hands and open wounds and struggle to find your own meaning? Will you die unloved, but rich? Or would you rather die in my arms, as the tide and the stars and the wind sing you to sleep?"

Jake stopped crying, and gazed at Rose like he was seeing her for the first time. The feeling that passed through his eyes was clear and tangible: the thought of the spray of the waves in his face and the sea on his tongue. Adventure.

Dave pulled out the god-stealing medallion from his cloak, pickpocketed from Jane during the hug. Jane didn't seem to notice or care, still sobbing against the Dead King. He waved the charm around, showing it off, and Rose beamed with her long rows of teeth.

Dave picked up Jane with ease, like she weighed absolutely nothing. He stared up at Dirk. 

"Don't you got someone else to save," said Dave, as less of a question and more of a statement of fact.

No? Dirk ran through a quick list of everyone he knew on Aetria. Maybe his crew needed help? They seemed to be handling things fine. Did Vriska need help? He couldn't believe that.

Dave edged his chin towards one of the white towers surrounding the palace. It was an insistent sort of nod, one Dirk didn’t want to disagree with. He trusted the Kings to take care of Jake, at the moment.

Dirk saluted, turned around, and leaped onto the nearest black balcony. He peeled off a strip of his wrecked shirt, wadded it up in his mouth so as to not bite his tongue or break his teeth, then peeled off the rest of his shirt. He ripped it into a long strip. He sat against the wall and wrapped the second strip tight around his ruined arm. The pain was near unbearable, choking out his vision and wracking him with muffled screams and spasms, but he wrapped his hand and wrist blind nonetheless. He did it sloppy, making it this useless uggo mitten hand, but it'd hold well enough until he could get proper first aid. Vriska was his priority.

The tower could only be entered by a narrow bridge that arced off the side of the highest floor of the palace, and was miraculously intact after the storms. The guard rails were blown away, but Dirk's tolerance for heights had greatly increased within the last hour in a half so he didn't give a shit when balancing over it. He pushed through the battered red door, and walked down the white stone spiral staircase.

He chose downwards instead of upwards because that's the way the bodies were facing. The whole staircase was littered with them, all these bloody people in military uniform. Some of them wore more gold than red, blue ribbons woven in their collars. Dirk figured those were Jane's personal guard.

The spiral staircase opened into punishment related rooms that took up the entire tower floorspaces. One level down was the torture room Vriska was trapped in. She wasn't there anymore.

It took him three floors to find her. He knew he was coming up on her because the bodies had pretty cut-and-dry wounds for most of the trek— the academic type, the kind they teach you at school— but they started getting fuckin’ _wild_ after a certain point. When the bodies of Jane’s guards were completely absent, the rest of the Condesce’s had been killed with the gruesome creativity only an outnumbered, 4’8”, one-eyed, one-armed pirate could think up.

She looked like she was meditating, leaning against the stone wall, her head thrown back against it, pistol hanging freely from her fingertips. She was loaded with gun holsters and knives shoved in her boots. She faced a locked door with melted hinges, ones she tried and failed to shoot off. She was ragged. Other people’s cartilage hung in her hair. Jane's stolen outfit was stained with who-knows-what. She had a shitty bandage on her upper arm. Her face was cut all the way down where someone had sliced it longways with a sword. It didn't break her thick layer of scar tissue, so she wasn't bleeding.

"Hey you," she said, softly, and Dirk knew she was trying to be an asshole like, 'Hey! You! Yeah, you!' but she was so happy to see him it sounded more like she was calling him a petname. "You look like shit…”

“Back at’cha,” said Dirk.

“I could use some muscle right about now."

She pointed at the door. Although her body was tired and worn, her eye fucking burned. Dirk knew what lay on the other side of it, without any doubt. He wondered who exactly the Dead King told him to save. It sure wasn't Vriska.

"Vriska," said Dirk, calmly. "I don't know what the hell you're going to do after I bust down that door... But I _know_ it won't make you feel any better about anything."

She grinned, pained, like someone was forcing her to be polite at a party. "Sucks for you! I'm gonna use the 'I'm your captain' card on this one, buddy. Do it or..." she paused to eye up his bandaged arm. "We'll spend a nice couple hours holding hands."

If he really wanted to stop her, he could. He could physically overpower her eight times out of ten. But the very deep, very dark, and very angry part of him wanted to see what would happen next. And it was powerful enough to override any misgivings Dirk might have had, and to override, for the moment, what the Dead King might have cryptically commanded. Dirk picked a piece of pink gunk out of her hair before nodding. He wound up his able arm, aimed himself at the door, and shouldered that motherfucker open.

Vriska was behind him like a lighting flash, pistol out, and immediately shot the one guard in the room in the head. He died, quickly. Her Imperious Condescension did not flinch, nor did she even spare a glance at the death of her last defense. She sat calmly on top of the torture table in the middle of the room, her legs swinging, her tits fully bared, nipple piercings glimmering in the stark, orange lantern light.

"Okay, so, this went balls up," the Condesce said, not all that bothered. She examined her manicure. "Guess I gotta run through the usual hostage shit huh. What can I getcha to get me outta this?"

Dirk stepped aside, to let Vriska through, and shut the door behind her. Vriska grinned, her body straight and tight, like she had never been more energized in her life. "What have you got to offer?"

"The usual. Gold, money, power, a great fuckin’ ship so good that you plebs probably have wet dreams about it,” she said, confident she’d get her way. She smirked, like some exciting thought occurred to her. She flicked her long lashes up, and then popped her finger in her mouth, making her lips look like the kind of lips made for suckin’ dicks. She drew it out, slow, and a string of spit trailed from her long nail and shimmered against her painted lips.

"Or hey, y'all are fuckin’ slaves to your vices,” she said, in a voice that could start wars. “You wanna rawdog an Empress? Like, my kid's good and all but I got years of experience on top of that bitch.”

Neither of them reacted. After posing in a manner that was _way_ too reminiscent of Jake, she dropped the act. “What? Did Janey buy you out? I mean, I’m real proud of her and all, like couldn’t be any fuckin’ prouder, but this whole tantrum’s gotta stop before she takes a throne she ain’t ready for. Whatever she’s got to offer, trust me, it ain’t the good stuff. And pirates are _all about_ the good stuff.”

“Yeah,” said Vriska, and cracked her neck. “Pirates _are_ all about the good stuff! The best stuff! And do you know what pirates like _best,_ ma’am? Do you know?”

Vriska took ten quick steps forward, until she was all the way against the Condesce’s knees. With a barely constrained glee, she got right in the Condesce’s face and rasped, “Revenge!”

The Condescension made a shooing motion with her hand, and Vriska took a step back. “Aw, c’mon kiddo, you aren’t still pissed about the poisoning attempt? You should really be harassing my son for that one. Or, oh, you miss your thumbnail? Fuck it, pull one of mine out, we’ll call it even.” 

Vriska laughed, loud and obnoxious, like that was the funniest joke she’d ever heard. Dirk leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. She laughed for a while, too long, long enough to make the Condesce uncomfortable. When she stopped laughing, her eye was wild. Like she would start frothing at the mouth at any moment.

“You have no idea what you’ve done, huh?” said Vriska, grinning past the edges of her face. “You have no idea what I want revenge for! You really have no clue, huh! What you did to that kid! Beating him down his whole life, his whole childhood, spitting on him, insulting him, making him do this awful work, killing him from the inside out! All he wanted was a little respect, hell, he wasn’t even asking for love, and you gave him _nothing!_ He’d break his back for you! He’d cut his arm off for you! He’d take his face off for you! And what did you give him? What did you _fucking_ give him!? You gave him scars so thick the skin underneath will _never_ show again!”

The Condesce curled her lip. “What the fuck do you care? You and I both know he’s totes useless.”

Vriska mocked her expression, curling her lip and rolling her eye in a parody of the queen. “Gee, yeah, he _is_ useless! Wonder why that is!? I wonder who made him that way!?”

The Condesce stood up, and circled around to the other side of the table. Vriska let her. There were torture instruments on the back wall, mostly scalpels, and a few of those rollers with spiked wheels on them. The Condesce eyed one of them. Vriska watched her.

“I _hate_ people like you,” hissed Vriska. “I hate people who take and take and take until they take somebody’s whole goddamn soul. I hate people who don’t care.”

The Condesce made a grab for one of the rollers, but Vriska was much faster. By the time Condy had her hand around the grip, Vriska drew one of the Aetrian-army issue knives shoved in her boot and hurled it at the Condesce. Her aim was true, and the knife sunk into the Condesce’s palm with no sound at all. The Condesce, to her credit, didn’t cry out. She just gaped, and clutched her wrist, and finally looked like she was taking the situation seriously. She grit her teeth and ignored the knife jammed in her hand as Vriska continued.

"Do you know what it's like when your actual fucking face rots off because no one cares about you!?" yelled Vriska. When the Condesce didn't respond appropriately, Vriska pointed at her still-exposed sealed eyelid and repeated, "Do you know what this feels like!?"

"Man, what the fuck is your damage," said the Condesce, spitting the words out. "I didn't melt your face off, kiddo. Like, miss me with all this, kthanks."

“But you did!” screamed Vriska. “Don’t you understand!? _You_ did this to me!”

Dirk watched, with a cold, dark veil over him, as the Condesce realized that Vriska was absolutely batshit insane. Her eyes widened. She backed up into the curved wall, no instruments of torture behind her. She tried to draw the knife from her hand, but it was either too painful or too lodged in there to use.

“You took my face-” said Vriska, manic, as she grabbed a scalpel off the wall. “You took my eye-” She scratched the metal scalpel against the stone wall, and it made sparks. “You took my arm-” She struck the wall again, staring at the Condesce. “You hurt me-" Another strike, sparks went flying. "You molded me-" Strike. "You ruined me-" Strike. "And you took and took until there was nothing left at all..."

Although the Condescention was much taller, Vriska felt like the largest presence in that room. She stood before the Condesce and the Condesce cowered in her shadow.

"Do you know how hard it is to build yourself up when all you've got is rotted from the inside out!?” Vriska screamed in her face. “What could I have been if I wasn't shit all over for a good chunk of my life! I'll never fucking know!"

The Condesce didn’t have an answer to this. She scanned the room, looking for help. Her eyes landed on Dirk. 

"But I guess it's not all bad. After all, without you, maybe I wouldn't have become such a psychopathic bitch." Vriska made a looping 'crazy' motion near her head. She then took a breath, like she was smelling the roses. "Revenge has been a _long_ time coming.”

"Dirk," stammered the Condesce, as smooth as she could. "You don't want to let this freaky fuck kill me, do you? Jake adores me, you'd break his weak little heart..."

Dirk looked at the Condesce. Then at Vriska.

"I’ll give you twenty minutes," said Dirk, calmly. 

The Condesce paled. Vriska sharpened the scalpel on the inside of her hook. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

Dirk bowed, and took his leave. He closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. He listened with no joy, but also with no guilt or sadness, to the screams of the Condesce as Vriska peeled her apart. His mind was blank, for once.

It didn’t take twenty minutes. It was more around ten, but Dirk wasn’t a very good timekeeper. He had cleared out the bodies in the immediate area, and was leaning against the wall directly in front of the door. The Condesce hadn’t screamed for a few minutes when Vriska exited.

She had blood plastered all down her front, although there was none on her face and head. She was standing stock still, her shoulders slouched, and her hair was cast over her face so Dirk could not see her expression. She shut the door behind her, and stood in front of Dirk on the narrow spiral staircase. It was barely wide enough for the both of them. 

Dirk didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged, and said, “Kill her too early?”

“Yeah,” said Vriska, monotone. “Messed up a little. My bad.”

He turned, to begin the climb back up. Vriska caught his arm, and wrapped her small fingers around his wrist. He waited for her. She stared at her feet.

“Dirk,” she said. She opened her mouth as though to continue, but no words came out. She sniffled, and let go of Dirk to wipe her nose.

“Hey, don’t do that, you’ll get blood all over your face,” said Dirk. He opened his arms to her. “Use me.”

She broke into terrible sobs, ones much too big for her body, and slammed her face into Dirk’s chest. There was a wet slopping noise when her body hit his. He hugged her tight, around her back and waist, although he could not push too hard with his left arm. Her legs buckled, but he took on all her weight so she didn’t have to worry.

“You were right! I hate it! I hate it! I don’t feel any better!” she screamed, her voice muffled by his breast. “I thought I’d feel so much better but I just feel _worse!”_

Dirk didn’t say anything. He stroked her back with his thumb. She was inconsolable, every part of her wracked with shakes and sobs.

He sank, slowly, to the ground. Vriska didn’t notice they moved. He sat on the stair, his back against the wall, and positioned Vriska so her face was in his chest and her legs were sprawled out between his. She was like a ragdoll, and she acted like one for a long few minutes. Dirk stroked her hair, lightly, with his bandaged hand, and ignored the dull ache that came with touching anything.

It didn’t take her long to regain control. Vriska was strong like that. She pried her head away from his hold to look up at him, her eye swarming with tears.

“How do you do it!?” she demanded.

Dirk had no fucking idea what she was talking about. “… Huh?”

"How do you do it!?" said Vriska, clutching his shoulder, desperate for an answer. "When you were a little kid and they were hurting you and forcing you to be a girl and you got out!? How'd you just- how'd you just get over that!? Like you never talk about it and you don't want revenge and you're always so confident about your body and _I don't get it!"_

Dirk blinked. He didn't think his and Vriska's situations, or his and Jake's situations, were comparable whatsoever. But he wasn't going to tell his upset friend that. He shrugged one shoulder. "There's no weight to it. It happened to me, but it's not heavy anymore."

She didn’t understand. Her mouth crumpled in with a dark sort of despair. Dirk tried to explain.

“I mean, I carry it with me. I’m always acting like a macho piece of shit. I want to be a self-destructive badass like the men in my old hometown. And I’m not sure I would have wanted to be a sailor if I wasn’t raised on the sea,” said Dirk, carefully. “I carry it, but it’s not heavy.”

That wasn’t the right answer. Jealousy coursed through her body, and she scraped her nails down his chest in desperation. She was about to draw her hook down his chest too, but Dirk caught her prosthetic wrist in time.

“Hey,” he said, stern. “It’s not like it’s always been light. It was so fucking heavy, in the beginning. I did a lot of suicidal, stupid shit after I got out. Cheated and killed some people who didn’t deserve it. I was an asshole. Cold. Calloused. Bitter. But _you_ saved me, Vriska.”

She stared up at him, vulnerable, taken off guard. She hiccuped, trying to reign in her tears. 

“If you and Terezi never found me, if I never joined the _Black Diamond,_ I might be totally different,” he continued. “I might have been an absolute unloving psychopath, I might have been a coward, I might be dead. But I didn’t become any of those things. Because I found my family. And you all took on my burden, even though you don’t know it. The acceptance, the love, the change in environment… It unfucked me.”

“But I…” she sniffled. “Then why aren’t I over it? I’ve known the crew for the same amount of time as you! Am I just stupid? Am I fucked up? Am I secretly this huge loser who can’t figure this shit out!?”

“I mean, you’re pretty fucked up, but not like that,” said Dirk, and let go of her wrist, to rest his hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s ‘cuz what works for me might not work for you. For instance, I devalue what happened to me, and I hyper-focus on my friends who all fuckin’ love me. And it feels nice, to not doubt that. You just have to find the right combo.”

“I don’t know what that right combo is…”

Dirk chewed on his lip. He spiraled into his own thoughts. He felt uncomfortable suggesting a solution to her, considering she was so vulnerable at the moment. If he said the wrong thing, he could really fuck her up. But Vriska continued on of her own accord.

“Maybe I could… stand to open up a little more, I guess,” she grumbled. "I'm a terrible friend. I'm mean. I'm violent. And I try to kill you, like, bimonthly? I mean, it's obviously because we're dramatic bitches who like playing mental chess but… what if I actually succeed one time?"

"Honestly, if I'm caught in one of your garbage traps, I probably deserved it," said Dirk. Vriska glanced down. Her tears had stopped.

“But I… I don’t want to open up. I’m afraid of becoming this totally oversensitive loser if I give in _one single inch!_ What if by trying to get better I get all empathic? What if I get weak? What if my true colors are the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen? What if I become a completely different person?”

“Who cares?” said Dirk. “She’ll be better.”

She scanned his face. He couldn’t read her expression, and he could usually read _all_ of her expressions. The eye contact was awkward to him when he couldn’t grasp what she felt, and he stammered out his next words.

"Anyway, I guess, uh, what I want to say is-- and I know we made a blood pact when we were nineteen to not do this mushy shit-- but I love you. I mean, I also fuckin’ hate you sometimes, but... You're my sister. You're dear to me. And I can’t say for sure, but I think I’m gonna love you no matter who you become."

Vriska would usually make fun of Dirk for this. Or stick out her tongue and pretend to be grossed out. But not this time. With utter vulnerability, with her eye opening directly into her soul, with the walls down for the first time in her entire life, she said, "I love you too, Dirk."

He smiled. 

"O captain, my captain," said Dirk, and pressed his palm against her cheek. "I will sail with you all the way to the Isle."

Vriska rested the smooth part of her hook against his knuckles. "Now _that's_ an idea," she said, softly. "When we're all like, old and decrepit, let's figure out how to take our whole boat there. Together forever."

"Sounds rad."

"Don't you dare tell our crew I said that."

"Yeah, how _dare_ they know you care about them."

She blushed. “Oh my god, shut up!”

He laughed. He helped her stand. He held his hand out to her, the non-bandaged one, before they began their climb to the top of the tower.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s spend a nice couple hours holding hands.”

She took him up on the offer.


	24. Velvet Court

They found the Kings, Jake and Jane, and the whole rest of their crew, inside the grand entryway of the palace.

The palace was in fabulous condition, considering a divine battle took place right outside it. All the gold leafing was still on the walls, the chandeliers were still in place, and none of the big mirrors were broken. The red carpet was pretty filthy from the _Black Diamond_ crew tracking ash and dirt and blood all over it. The Kings must have rescued them from wherever they were barricaded. Equius was the only one who appeared _extremely uncomfortable_ standing next to their gods. Everyone else was hyped as hell.

Rose and Dave stood stock still in front of Jake and the crew. To Dirk's great relief, John was there too. Perfectly fine, in full health, and clad in his floaty veils. Dirk had no idea how the fuck they got him back, but he suspected Jane had something to do with it. She was completely passed out; they had laid her on a golden side table to nap.

John waved hello to Dirk and Vriska when they entered the hall from the grand side doors. They let go of one another to wave back. They got a few raised eyebrows from the crew due to how fucking godawful they both looked, but no one said anything. Jake didn't even notice they walked into the room. The Dead King handed the swirly medallion to him, and he took it with shaking hands. Rose brushed his cheek with the curl of her tentacle, and he steeled himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Dirk and Vriska stood by the rest of their crew as the black and white of the talisman spun together in a tangled mess. Lines of white rushed out of Jake's chest, pulled from him by the swirl of the medallion. A wind that only he could feel combed through his hair and clothing. The strings of power consolidated near the three Kings in a vaguely body-like shape, almost like someone was knitting Jade into existence.

The white glow weaved together, the shapes and parts of her grew coherent and visible as the medallion sucked her soul from Jake. He wobbled on his feet, his head bobbed forward. With a pop of dramatic sparkles, the lines of power cut off and the Star King materialized in her black dress and gold jewelry. She twirled around on one foot, and her skirt swung around her legs. Back to full health, radiating happiness, the sight of her warmed Dirk's heart. She didn't have her hair long anymore-- she kept it in the same sloppy bob her captors gave her.

Jake's eyes rolled back into his skull. He fainted. Nepeta caught him under the armpits. The medallion fell to the carpet, and Roxy tucked it safely away.

Jade beamed at her family. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and laced her fingers behind her back all coy. Her siblings were unable to react. All three were frozen, for a moment, and the long, lost years hung in the air between them like scattered sunbeams. 

Dave was on her first. He swooped her up into his arms, hugging her so deep that her body curved perfectly into his bent embrace. Jade laughed and laughed. John chirped, "Hey, no fair, don't hog her!" and rested his hands on Jade's back.

Dave loosened his hold so Jade could twist around and throw her arms around John's shoulders, and he matched Jade's laughter and happiness beat for beat. Rose got to hug her last, and while she pretended to be stoic and above it all, there was an undeniable happiness in her demeanor. Rose clasped her hands to Jade's face and pressed kisses to her cheeks, overjoyed to see her alive.

They all embraced one another, in a mass of dark fabric and black tentacles and blue veils and gold jewelry. And in the blink of an eye and a swirl of color, they were gone. Like they were never there at all.

The air hung heavy. The laughter was absent, the painful echo of a long-overdue reunion dissipated into the cold room. The gold hall was devoid of any noise. Jake breathed lightly as he slept. The crew felt a nostalgic pang in their souls, a five hundred year absence finally filled. They rescued the Star King. It felt good, to know they were heroes, but Dirk didn’t feel complete yet. They may have accomplished their mission, but his work wasn’t done on Aetria.

"Well," said Karkat, after a minute or two had passed. His voice echoed in the hall. "What now?"

"Now?" said Vriska, taking a deep breath. "We raid as many houses as we can, steal one of those ships down at the dock, and get the hell out of dodge ASAP, 'cuz I just slaughtered the fucking queen."

There were a lot of impressed head nods. Dirk squeezed her shoulder.

"Actually," said Jane, sleepily. The whole crew turned to look at her. She was sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "I'd like to make a deal with you, if I could speak to your captains alone."

Dirk and Vriska glanced at each other before inevitably agreeing.

*****

Jane sat behind a large oak desk, placed in front of a couple tall empty bookshelves. Dirk and Vriska sat on the other side of the desk in dusty wooden chairs. He suspected this office was the Condesce’s, which explained why it looked mostly unused. Jane was remarkably put together considering the circumstances. Hair fixed, straight postured, no shivering, hands folded demurely on the table. A brave face.

"I should execute you right now," said Jane, calmly. "Make a public example of you. You've really done a number on my kingdom."

There were no guards in the room. Jane had no weapons. Vriska leaned back in her chair, kicked her legs up on the desk, and cackled.

"But... you've done me a huge favor. You saved my coup," Jane continued, nodding at Vriska and her blood-stained outfit. "And I repay my debts. Besides, I think this situation could work out to my advantage."

Jane tapped her long nails on the desk. "So, here is my proposal. You may steal one of the sloops down at the dock. You may steal supplies, gold, whatever. The city is empty and I will not call the people back until very late in the night. Take what you wish. But the moment the sun pops above the horizon: I begin my chase."

Dirk raised an eyebrow. "Fast turnaround for initiating a manhunt, isn't it?"

"Realistically you have a couple days to get a head start, the point is that you need to leave _immediately_ or my guards shoot you on sight," said Jane, and her perfectly painted lips popped into a smirk. "But what am I getting out of this mess, you may ask? What do I receive when I let you wreak havoc on my city and give you a chance to flee?"

Vriska shrugged. Dirk waited for Jane to answer her own question.

"I get a scapegoat," Jane hissed, excitedly. "I was expecting trouble when I usurped my mother. Revolts and discordance and such. She was… oddly popular. But _truthfully_ blaming the gruesome death of my mother on a bunch of pirates who showed up out of nowhere and burned a hole through my country? The brave, innocent daughter takes the throne in mourning and unites the people and vows revenge? It's the perfect crime!"

Vriska bolted upright. Not because this was shocking or anything, but because she was hyper interested in this kind of manipulation. Her panties were probably fucking drenched.

"Of course, this scenario isn't as ideal as what I would have liked: the lack of Wind and Star on our side will be bothersome, especially as others become aware of our country’s existence. I will have to spin up defenses quite fast," Jane continued. Her long lashes fluttered towards Vriska, and she said in a bedroom voice, "But don't worry, I can spare a small amount of troops to send after you. And when you inevitably defeat them... I might have to chase after you myself."

Vriska blushed, hard. Dirk rolled his eyes. Vriska stood up and leaned over the desk, so her ill fitting top gaped open and definitely gave Jane a solid view. "C'mon princess, be realistic. You're too prissy and delicate for a revenge quest at sea."

Jane looked Vriska up and down, sneering. "That's 'queen' to you, bitch."

Vriska fully crawled atop the desk, on all fours. She ignored Dirk's, "Are you fucking serious right now," and reached out to lash her hook into Jane's clothing. It poked a hole right through the fabric that covered her tit, and probably scratched her skin a little. Vriska tried to yank Jane to her, but Jane got her hands on Vriska's collar first. Jane pulled Vriska down, and they were violently mashing their faces together before Dirk could do anything about it.

"Are you shitting me," Dirk stated, deadpan. "Aren't you two emotionally wrung out yet? Why the hell do you want to fuck in an office in front of me."

Neither of them could answer, because their mouths were in use. Dirk slapped his hand against his forehead, which was almost, but not quite, louder than the sloppy makeout noises. It was like someone stirring wet pasta.

"Alright have fun be safe don't get pregnant. Bye." Dirk grumbled, and left the office.

He slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him, and strode into the hallway. He almost tripped over Jake.

Jake was sitting, curled up and with his knees hiked to his chest, right next to the door. He was rubbing his bare ankles, slow and mournful. Dirk's mood immediately flipped turnways, his heartrate stilled, and he sunk down to squat in front of Jake.

His eyes were red and puffy, even though it had probably been an hour or so since he last cried. At least they were dry. And darker, after Jade’s soul left his body. His vibrant green irises had dimmed to more of a shady forest color, like the cypress trees on the Isle of the Dead. Dirk liked it.

Jake stared at him, with a flat expression. Dirk reached out to cup his cheek. "Hey there, morning star."

"Dirk," said Jake, quietly. "What happened to Mom?"

For the first time, Dirk was stung by the guilt of actively encouraging her murder. The right thing to do would be to tell Jake the truth. But telling him the truth would also drive Jake away from them even further. Would Jake sink into despair? Would it break his heart, like the Condesce warned? Perhaps there wasn't really a right thing to do, at least not at the moment. Dirk removed his hand from Jake's cheek.

"Your mother's dead," he said, taking the most neutral route he could.

Jake’s lips parted. He blinked a couple times. He did not look sad, or upset, or even angry. He just looked lost. Like for the first time in his life, he didn’t know where to go from here.

He didn’t respond. So Dirk touched Jake’s shoulder, gentle.

"Hey, Jake, listen," he said, in a hushed voice. "Jane's going to place all the blame on us for the recent catastrophe. We’ve got to leave by morning, because we’re going to be the scapegoat for the massive fucking calamity that happened.”

That snapped Jake out of it. He inhaled, sharply, and his pupils narrowed to pinpricks.

"Already!? You're leaving already!?" said Jake, in a much louder tone. Dirk had the feeling Jake would have started crying again if he had any tears left to shed. "Dirk, you promised you'd sing to me tonight!"

“Of course I’ll sing to you tonight,” he said, rubbing Jake’s shoulder. He forced his mouth into a half-smile. “You’ll be on the ship helping us pack. You’re coming with us.”

"I... I don't want to go with you."

"C'mon. Every night, morning star. Me and you and the seas."

Jake shook his head 'no,' staring at Dirk like he was shellshocked. Dirk gripped both of Jake's shoulders, harsh.

"Jake, please, you don't have to stay. Your mom's dead. Your sister’s got it covered. There's no one left to impress."

"Then why do I feel so fucking bad about leaving!?" hollered Jake, with such force that Dirk let go of him. "Why do I feel like such a bloody failure!?"

They'd already cycled through this. They'd already discussed this. That Jake measured himself by the wrong standards. Dirk was left flabbergasted, unable to re-iterate his meaning and love and anger that he expressed to Jake only a couple hours ago. Why didn't it sink in? Why did he willfully forget all that?

"Jake," Dirk said, meekly. "You don't have to be what she told you."

Jake stared at Dirk like he was speaking gibberish. “I’m not going with you.”

Dirk knew Jake didn't want to stay. He cursed the bodies he had sex with. He enjoyed sailing with the _Black Diamond._ His sister, if her path fared poorly, could develop into Condy #2 and Jake would be beaten down for the rest of his life. And so, Dirk strengthened his resolve. He would be taking Jake with him nonetheless. He would bind and gag and wound him if that's what it took.

"Alright," Dirk said, coldly. "Do what you want."

Jake narrowed his eyes, confused, like Dirk gave him the wrong answer. Dirk didn’t know what the right answer would have been. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, because the office door exploded open, and Vriska and Jane stumbled out of it mid-hate-makeout. They slammed against the opposite wall, hands all over each other’s clothes, until Jane pried Vriska off of her and threw her aside like a sack of flour. Vriska stumbled to her feet, cackling, wiping away all the lipstick smeared over her face.

Jane clenched her fists and crouched like she was bracing herself in order to tackle a bull. “Ugh! Just! Get out of here!”

Vriska kept laughing. Jane pointed at Dirk, angry and accusatory. “And you! Leave my sight! You can find hormones for your journey at the university! They come in crates of 20! You will have to experiment with proper dosage!”

"Oh, thanks," said Dirk, surprised. Did Jake tell her about Dirk’s situation? He wondered how the fuck that came up in conversation. ‘And then I was destroying his pussy…’ said Jake, at some point, probably.

“Aaaaaaaand you!” hollered Jane, swinging her pointer finger over to Jake. “I need to talk to you!”

Jake visibly flinched, under his sister’s scrutiny. Jane saw it too, and it affected her like a raincloud. She wilted, dropped her hand, and for a moment, she looked very vulnerable. Hesitant, and much quieter, she said, “It won’t take long, Jake… Would you come with me?”

Dirk helped Jake stand, and he went to his sister. They stood a solid foot away from each other, and started to walk down the hallway.

“Come down to the docks tonight,” said Dirk. “And I’ll keep my promise.” 

Jake bit his lip, but inevitably left with Jane. No goodbyes were said. Dirk didn’t think Jake would have a change of heart, and he was already scheming on how best to kidnap Jake from this godawful palace. 

*****

To his delight, the crew stole a couple horses in order to make the ride to the docks faster. He rode with Aradia, who could actually drive one of these things, on a beautiful black dappled mare. For a blissful fifteen minutes, he had nothing to worry about except the wind in his hair and the gorgeous beast he sat on.

The city really was empty, top to bottom, with the exception of groups of squatters in the warehouse district. But the crew had free reign to check out the spread of ships in the port, and there were plenty to peruse. There was everything ranging from solo paddleboats to 600-person war galleons. They settled on a ship similar in size to the lost _Black Diamond,_ a bitchin’ all-black sloop that looked like it could actively grow arms and knife someone.

It was almost like a longboat, where the bow and the aft both tapered into sharp points, but the sail setup with the sole mainmast and the jib were fairly similar to the _Black Diamond’s_ rig. The boat had a surprisingly large hull, one that went deep and narrow and actually had more than two rooms in it. And to Vriska’s delight, there was a steering wheel instead of the incredibly heavy steering stick they had before. “I can finally drive the fucking boat!” squealed Vriska, when she noticed.

The downside was that it wasn’t outfitted. The hull and kitchen and cabins were completely empty, and there were no sails rigged on the masts. The crew stood on the black painted deck, and surveyed their new home. It was still mid-afternoon, they had plenty of time to dick around.

"I think she’s the one! But ugh," said Vriska, placing her hand on her hip. "She’s so... clean. She smells... nice. Yuck."

Roxy gestured at the deck. "Want me to take a piss on her?"

"Yes," said Sollux, dryly.

"Shut the fuck up about your piss kink, we've got business to do and it doesn't involve squatting," yelled Karkat, clapping his hands. He whipped out a notepad and pencil and started furiously scribbling. "You're all getting lists of supplies to scrounge for, because if it was up to Vriska we'd literally just load the hull down with gold and then die in one week. You're all buddying up, going questing, and once you're done checking off everything on your scavenger hunt, you're good to stuff your pockets with whatever shiny shit captures your pea brained attention spans."

Karkat handed out the lists he slapdashed together. Everybody got with their buddy, but Dirk didn’t get a list. Karkat gave him a ‘of course you didn’t get a fucking list’ look when Dirk started to complain about it. "Strider, you're on setup duty with Captor and I because you dicked your arm up. We're putting up hammocks and sails and Sollux will be doing some hardcore mathematics wizardry to double check this boat actually fucking works."

"Solid," said Dirk. "I'll need to ditch at some point to steal something from the university, and I'll also need to... acquire Jake."

"Oh yeah, he wants to come with us?"

"Of course," said Dirk, darkly. "He just has some things to take care of. I'll go grab him an hour before sunrise."

Dirk spent the next hour slathering aloe on his arm and wrapping it properly, so he could finally use his fingers. By that time he: 1. Could start organizing the items the crew scavenged, and 2. Actually had a shirt to wear because someone brought him clean clothes. Thank the fucking Kings for that.

Most of the actual supplies they needed were on other boats or in the area-- barrels of water, beer, extra sails, dried food, weapons, etc. Karkat added more items to everyone’s supply lists based on what they discovered about the boat. For instance, not only did it have a captain's cabin, it also had a very small first mate's cabin, and both rooms needed bedding and mattresses. It was difficult to find some ship-appropriate items, like pots, pans, and an oven, and the sun had just set by the time they checked off all the items on Karkat's lists.

Dirk went hunting for the hormones when there was still light to spare. It took him longer than he thought, mostly because he got distracted by an armory on the second level of the city, but he returned around midnight with his meds and, like, four swords and twenty knives. Good haul.

He also grabbed a couple sets of work clothing for both himself and Jake. There weren’t any of Dirk’s preferred garb, obviously, but he could make due with some puffy pants and a nice pair of boots. He grabbed similar things for Jake, trying to find sets that would fit on Jake’s thin body.

The rest of the night was spent rigging and tuning sails. Alone. It was incredibly boring work, and it allowed him time to think. There were rotations so each member of the crew could take naps, but Dirk declined the opportunity to rest. He wouldn't be able to sleep, not when he was thinking about how to kidnap Jake. How much would Jake struggle? Would Dirk have to use a knife? Would Jane try and intervene?

He knew he should have been tired. He'd been awake for almost twenty four hours. But his mind wouldn't stop working. The stars in the sky were fading away, and the nighttime black had transitioned into a deep purple, when he decided it was time to ride up to the palace and steal Jake away.

The sails were set, bunched up and loose so they could unfurl at a moment's notice. Dirk was up there tying the last gaskets around the yard, so when they were ready to stow the sails there would be something to fasten them to. It took him longer than usual to do this. While he could use the fingers on his bandaged left hand, it hurt too much to apply significant pressure. It was hard to tie knots with his non-dominant hand.

The heels of his shoes swung in the footrope, and his stomach curled around the sturdy wooden spar for support. He was working on the topsail about a hundred feet above deck. He fastened a gasket on the very edge of the yard, took a moment to rub his eyes, and stared into the early morning sky. A pale blue light traced the line of the dark ocean horizon. A gentle sea wind whispered through his hair. It was the cool softness of a summer morning. He wasn’t finished with his work, but he had to go get Jake.

“Hey!” said John, popping into existence directly in front of him.

Dirk nearly fell off the sail, but managed to balance himself on the swinging footrope before a terrible fall occurred. He braced himself on the yard and stared into John’s face. John didn’t seem to notice this was an angry glower. “Need any help, dude?” he asked, hovering in the air. His veils twisted and wrapped around him in big swirls. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” Dirk rasped. He rubbed his eyes again. “If you want to help, you can finish tying these damn knots. I’m going to go get Jake.”

John quirked his head. “Why? He’s coming down here to leave with you guys.”

Dirk couldn’t believe that. “Why would he?”

“Because he wants to be one of the Right People!” said Jade, to Dirk’s left. He glanced over, and she was laying on top of the yard, on her stomach, kicking her legs up behind her. “Obviously!”

“Yeah, no shit, but he doesn’t know he wants it.”

Jade giggled, and twirled her short hair around her finger. “No, I think he does! Even though his mom’s orders will linger long after her death, there’s something more powerful at play here!”

Dirk raised an eyebrow. He glanced at John. John rolled his eyes. “Fiiiiiiiine, I’ll go check on Jake and make sure he’s coming down... I’ll let you know if he’s not!”

John vanished in a puff of wind. Dirk looked to Jade for reassurance. Not that he didn’t trust John —despite his flighty behavior, he was pretty dependable— Dirk was just nervous about the whole aspect of Jake choosing to leave Aetria on his own. Jade nodded at Dirk, confident. If his Kings commanded, he’d wait it out. At least for a little while.

He tied the rest of the gaskets on the yard. Jade didn’t help at all, but she helped kill time by asking him about random historical events she missed out on. The crew all returned from their treasure hunts and shuffled around topside, their lanterns lighting the deck. They had loaded the ship down too heavy with stolen treasure, and Vriska was arguing with Feferi over which items to toss out. Karkat ignored both of them and forced Equius to hurl the largest statues and most useless ironware off the side of the ship. This was very effective.

The sky was pale blue, orange, deep purple. Rays of sunshine peeked gently over the horizon. Clouds of all colors drifted across the sky. The wind was cold, the sting of it refreshing. Dirk pressed his stomach to the yard and watched all his family squabble. He was overjoyed they were alive.

John appeared on deck to chat with Vriska about something. They leaned together against the rail, John’s veils draped over Vriska like a gentle rainfall. The crew got the weight situation figured out. The sun had almost risen. Growing worried, Dirk tilted himself towards Jade and asked, “You sure he’s coming? If you teleport me to him I can nab him easy.”

She giggled, and rolled onto her back with ease, like she wasn’t laying on top of a pole a hundred feet into the air. “He’s a’comin’. See?”

She pointed past Dirk, towards port, towards the empty, rising tiers of the Floating City. Dirk spotted a horse and a rider, galloping down the winding sloped paths, around buildings and forges. His heart flew. He was elated. Not only was Jake coming of his own free will, the dude could apparently drive a horse. That was officially the hottest thing Jake could do, no contest.

It didn’t take very long for Jake to get to their black ship. Dirk could see most everything from his spot on the yard near the crow’s nest. He watched Jake dismount a beautiful black mare at the edge of the port, where the docks sprawled out from the land like a spiderweb. Jake had a pack with him, a backpack made of too fine fabric and probably filled with a ton of things Jake didn’t need. He had on a billowing black skirt and a tight top with an obnoxious v-laced titty window down the center, but at least he was wearing shoes this time.

He adjusted his glasses before abandoning the poor horse and booking it down the white, floating boardwalks, past the boats that didn’t matter, towards the only one that did. All of the crew stopped squabbling, one by one, as they noticed him approach. It was silent, besides for the sounds of the water. Jake boldly leaped from the dock to the boarding plank, stood on the very edge of the deck, and clutched his pack in one hand.

Jake tilted his head up, and stared hardline at Dirk, with an expression too far away to read. He said something masked by the distance and the noise of the waves against the boat.

"What!?" yelled Dirk. "I can't hear you!"

Jake took a deep breath. He widened his stance. He responded with appropriate volume this time, his shoulders hunching with the effort of hollering his words to Dirk.

“I said I’m coming with you!”

The _Black Diamond_ crew cheered, in their various ways. Jake didn’t look at them. He didn’t even twitch.

"I slept on it and- and I said goodbye to Jane," he called to Dirk. "She told me to go with you! And she told me I'd certainly see her again since she's chasing tail because it takes an elaborate multi-year revenge quest to get her rocks off apparently!"

Karkat looked like he just ate something rotten. Nepeta looked confused. Vriska snort-laughed.

"Besides, she said it'd look even better for her if the pirates also appeared to kidnap the beloved sexy prince… And she also said that… that maybe this would be better for me, to get away from her for a while, that she’s scared of hurting me!" Jake continued yelling. He paused, and took a deep breath. “But that's not why I'm leaving Aetria! I wanted to stay no matter what she said!”

Dirk could sense the raised eyebrows from the crew. He’d have to explain the situation later. Or maybe Jake could tell them himself.

"Thinking about leaving the place I grew up and throwing away everything I've known and abandoning the only thing I'm good at made me feel like I was going to explode into a bazillion pieces," he hollered. He paused, to swallow, and clenched his fists at his sides. "But thinking about living without _you_ was even worse!"

Dirk was touched. So was everyone else. Roxy put her hands over her heart and let out an obnoxious, "Awwwww!"

"I don't know who I want to be, or what I want to do!" yelled Jake. "But I know I don't want to do it without you!"

Dirk couldn't look away from Jake, but he heard Jade smack her palm against her face. Probably because at the end of it all, it was indeed infatuation that called him back to the seas, and not an earnest desire to be a pirate. "Well, whatever gets him out of the house I guess?” she said, half-giggling. 

Dirk, for his part, didn't mind at all.

He smiled. He yelled in return, “I live a hard life, morning star!”

“I know! But you’ll teach me the skills I need, wont you?” he hollered, desperate. "I want to sing under the stars with you! I want you to tell me about the tides and about navigation and about wind and about other weird sailing shit that I can't even fathom at this point in time! I want you to tell me how to steal, how to kill, how to be a bad guy! I want you to be with me for a long, long time, Dirk! Will you do that for me?"

Dirk was too overcome to answer it straight up. He didn't know what to say. He forgot every bit of vocabulary in his many languages except for the three most important words. He put all his weight on the footrope and leaned forward into the yard, and spread his arms out towards Jake as though to swoop him into an embrace.

"I love you," Dirk called.

Jake's mouth opened. His fists went loose, and he dropped his pack onto the deck, like he couldn't be concerned with his hands anymore. He gathered up his skirts and started running, to cross the deck, to try and make it up the ratlines. He didn't get that far.

John twirled his wrist, and a gust of wind rushed out of nowhere to pluck Jake into the air and pull him a hundred feet up, towards Dirk. Jake extended his arms, his eyes shining, his dress billowing around him like a storm, and Dirk caught him in a hug. It was only natural to bring Jake close. Dirk tilted his head, and shut his eyes. The sun crested over the horizon line like the grand swell of a song, and light exploded across the sea.

And the crowd cheered.

A whole mess of ingredients coursed through Dirk’s body, and he'd never felt more awake in his life. It was a rush, to kiss Jake, and Dirk couldn’t stop. John’s wind held Jake in the air, steady, and Dirk combed his bandaged hand through Jake’s hair and pressed desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Jake’s lips. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to devour him. The tip of Jake’s tongue slipped into Dirk’s mouth, and what was something appropriately chaste and romantic transitioned into something much less fit for public consumption. Despite the manic makeouts, Dirk had no idea what Jake’s piercings felt like; it was a mad scramble of passion and he wasn’t aware of anything physical. He was only aware of how mindblowingly loved and in-love he felt during their very first kiss. 

They only stopped because John abruptly cut off wind support. Jake dropped a couple inches, screeching into Dirk’s mouth, but he had his arms around Dirk’s shoulders and Dirk had a pretty firm grip on his back, so they steadied out in a couple seconds. Jake hung off Dirk’s body, his legs dangling off the yard, too enamored with Dirk to be afraid. Dirk shot him a charming smile before twisting his head and telling Jade in a hoarse voice, “Get us down, pretty please?”

She winked at him, and a flash of green electricity coursed over both their bodies. They were placed on the deck, holding one another in an embrace. Jake beamed at Dirk with sparkling eyes, and Dirk’s heart was full and his head was swimming and he wanted nothing more than to make out with Jake for fucking ever. Maybe not in front of the crew, though.

“I haven’t checked out my bedroom yet,” said Dirk, offhandedly. He had no idea if any of the crew made fun of him for that, or if any of them even heard him, because he only had eyes for Jake at the moment. Together, they walked down the stairs to the lower deck, to the first mate’s cabin. 

His cabin was on this weird half-floor of the ship, built right next to Vriska’s room. It was small, and the black wood only made it more claustrophobic. They had to bend in half to get under the doorframe, and closing the door was an ordeal with two people in the room. There was only a small single bed, a dresser, and the large pile of weapons Dirk acquired. But the bed was clean and made up with a soft down comforter, and the rising sun spread glowing rays through the small porthole above the fluffed pillows, and that was all he needed. Jake surveyed the room with a blank stare, with his arm around Dirk’s waist.

Jake sighed. “You want to bounce around under the sheets?”

“Nah,” Dirk lied. “Just want you alone, is all.”

Jake blinked at Dirk, confused, like he couldn’t process his own thoughts. They removed their shoes before sitting down on the foot of the bed. It barely fit both of their asses, so they were pretty tightly squished together. Not like Dirk minded. He pressed his hands to Jake’s cheeks, and Jake looked at Dirk soft as the morning.

“I only want to make out, if that’s cool,” said Dirk, which wasn’t entirely accurate. He’d _kill_ to make love to Jake right now, but with the sheer amount of sexual baggage Jake carried? If Jake couldn’t actualize sex as an act of love? Fuck no. Dirk could be chaste. Especially if Jake reciprocated his other advances. “I'm just... so glad you're here. I don't want to stop kissing you, dude.”

“Ha ha, same to you, buckaroo,” said Jake, smiling crookedly. 

Their lips met. Their arms wrapped around one another. The passion they felt in the light of the sunrise hit them like a stampede. Dirk clutched Jake so hard pain shot through his bandaged arm, and Jake dragged his nails down Dirk’s shirt like he was trying to claw him even closer.

He didn’t hear his crew stomp around the deck above him, he didn’t hear them sing or raise the anchor. He couldn’t hear anything at all. His senses were overcome by the rush of pleasure he felt from some wildly intense mouth-to-mouth contact. And it got real messy real fast; they fit together like they were destined to. They clung to one another around their waists, their shoulders, the napes of their necks, the backs of their heads.

The more they indulged the more Dirk grew aware of the physical. The press of Jake’s lip piercings against his chin. The smell of Jake’s hair. Where his fingers wandered. How nice it felt to drift away and kiss down the shell of Jake’s ear, listening to his shallow sighs when Dirk tugged on an earring.

Jake’s tongue piercings were what really did him in. The shift of metal against the inside of his mouth sent sparks coursing through his soul. His hands wandered lower, to Jake’s hips, and he rubbed his thumb against the bones there. Jake breathed in stuttered gasps. Without breaking the long kiss, Jake hooked his leg over Dirk’s thighs and sat on his lap, straddling him.

Jake had to bend himself in a curve in order to continue making out with Dirk in this position, which was less than ideal. Dirk wanted some hot torso-on-torso contact as they reached first base, dammit. His heart pounding, Dirk pulled away in order to hug Jake tight. They met in a full embrace, and Dirk propped his chin against Jake’s decolletage, and Jake’s prominent erection prodded Dirk in the abdomen.

Ah. Heat unfurled between Dirk’s legs. Jake bit his lip.

"I'm sorry," he said, hesitant. "I seem to be overcome with a case of the vapors... Feeling a bit heated around the thigh area."

"Ain't nothing wrong with that," said Dirk, and gave Jake a squeeze around the waist.

"Oh!" said Jake, surprised. "Well, in that case..."

He curved his spine back, and braced his hand against Dirk’s shoulder so Dirk could not broach the distance again. The heavy-lidded look of someone in love was swapped for the dark, fiery glare of a prostitute trying to court a client. He tugged on the lowest lace of his v-neck with a long, drawn out motion that emphasized his delicate wrist and dexterous fingers.

Dirk’s stomach curled. He didn't want any of this performative shit. Dirk wanted it messy and real and cathartic. He didn't think Jake knew how to have intimate sex, that Jake didn't know how to reconcile soul and body. It was a whole gigantic pile of problems that Dirk didn't know how to fix, and a couple hours in his cabin definitely wouldn't put a dent in the heap.

"Stop," said Dirk, firmly, and placed his hand over Jake's so Jake would stop doing his striptease. "I just want to make out."

Jake seesawed between relief and disappointment. His whole body relaxed like a great weight was taken off it, but his face collapsed into a puppy dog frown.

"Please," begged Jake, in his sex kitten voice. He trailed a finger across Dirk's collarbone, it felt like a feather. "What's the harm in getting a little handsy, puddingcup?"

Awful. Just awful. They couldn't bang like this, not with Jake play acting at prostitute. But Dirk also didn't want to break away from Jake cold turkey, even though he probably should. They needed to do something intimate where Jake couldn't put on a mask.

Dirk already knew that Jake could drop the act if Dirk was asleep or laying prone, like when they were on the Isle of the Dead. But he wasn't in the mood for pretend-somnophilia-- he wanted to reciprocate, which is where the problem laid.

Maybe he should… talk about it? He wished he had talked about this when he wasn’t fucking _throbbing._

“Look, dude,” said Dirk, softly. He gripped Jake’s shoulders, gentle. “I’m not going to lie, I _want_ you. But I don’t _ever_ want you to feel like I don’t care about you. You told me that you view love and lust as incompatible, and I don’t want to muddy that shit right now. I want it to be 100% fucking clear how I feel about you.”

Jake winced like Dirk struck him. “Sorry for being so forward then, my guy! I’m one horny bastard, it’s how I’m wired and all. I never turn off.” 

“No, fuck, that’s not what I meant. It’s cool to be turned on, man. Trust me, if my dick were any bigger it’d be spearing you through the ass right now.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. Dirk was about to tear his hair out with how frustrated-combo-horny he was getting. If they kept making out, Dirk would certainly lose his control and Jake would tap him like a keg. Maybe they could do something sexual that couldn’t involve Jake being performative, like something involving the _self._ Dirk shivered, when he thought of it, but less because it was hot and mostly because it was juvenile. He hadn’t done this sort of thing with someone since he was an awkward teen trying to figure his shit out.

"Hey, so… I don’t want to fuck you right now, but do you want to... uh..." This was worse and more embarrassing than straight up asking for sex. Dirk swallowed. "... masturbate together?"

Jake appeared simultaneously surprised and disappointed, somehow. "I’ve never done that before."

“What? You’ve never, like, jerked off next to someone?”

“Gosh I do _that_ on request, I’ve just never done this whole mutual masturbation shtick as the main event.”

Dirk eyed the bed. It’d be long enough to fit both of them. And maybe it’d be better if they both undressed beneath the bedding, so Jake didn’t have room to put on a strip show. “Let’s get under the covers, then.”

They slid beneath the lightweight down comforter. The bed and pillows were too soft for a pirate ship, sewn in silk cloth and stuffed with feathers. Snuggling into it felt like falling into a cloud.

They faced one another, and before undressing they became distracted by the closeness of their bodies, and slipped into another deep kiss. When Dirk’s hands threatened to hike up Jake’s skirt, and when Jake was firmly gripping Dirk’s ass, Dirk made the decision to break away. He wiped the spit from his mouth and undid his belt. Jake panted, heavy with heat, and Dirk hoped it wasn’t performative.

Dirk kicked his trousers off, and threw them off the side of the bed. He made quick work of his shirt too, doing a sideways situp in order to yank it off. Jake blinked at him, in awe. Dirk probably just set a record for stripping naked while prone.

Jake phased back into his seductive persona, trying to untie his sash all sultry and sexy. Despite being under the covers and roughly five inches away from Dirk, Dirk had no doubt Jake would somehow manage to make it into a glitzy peep show. He wasn’t about that.

“Let me,” said Dirk, and rolled Jake onto his back. He sat on top of Jake, like he was going to ride him, although the bulge in Jake’s skirt was firmly pinned under cloth and rutting up flat between his legs. Dirk resisted the urge to grind on him.

Jake giggled, all coy and fluttery, and tried to buck his hips up to frot with Dirk. Although that single inch worth of friction felt like absolute heaven, Dirk clamped his absolutely fucking ripped thighs around Jake’s hips like a vice grip, and slammed Jake’s arms into the mattress. Jake struggled for a second, then made a pouty face when he realized he couldn’t move or rut against Dirk. Dirk leaned in for a kiss, which Jake was happy to reciprocate.

This was such a nice position. Dirk wouldn’t call himself dominant, but he’d call himself controlling, and limiting Jake’s movement with his own body was simply delicious. He wanted to push that further, to control Jake into actually feeling good during sex, and not just physically. 

Dirk dipped down to Jake’s soft neck, and kissed and sucked where a choker had been his entire life. For the first time that Dirk could remember, Jake reacted naturally to something sexual. He shuddered beneath Dirk, he gasped and squeaked and made a whole slew of noises that had never been trained into him. He threw his head back so Dirk could kiss deeper into the lines of his throat, so Dirk could leave harsher marks on his pale skin. Dirk laced their fingers together and pressed Jake’s knuckles into the pillows.

“Gods, Strider, don’t stop,” Jake begged, as Dirk drew his tongue along the hollow of Jake’s throat. Jake’s hips spasmed, trying to rut against Dirk. Precome soaked through the fabric of Jake’s skirt, and Dirk felt it against his skin.

Dirk sunk his teeth into Jake’s neck, where the band of the choker once was. Jake yelped like he was getting fucked. Dirk nipped around the circumference of Jake’s throat, taking his time to leave careful marks, and by the time he had left bruises all the way around to the other side, Jake was coming. Just from necking. Holy shit.

Jake’s fingers spasmed in Dirk’s grip. Jake didn’t make a single sound as semen pumped out into his skirt. Warm and wet, it spread between their bodies like an ink stain. Dirk kissed Jake’s throat gently to help him come down, but Jake didn’t need it. He wasn’t shuddering or panting like a lot of people did after orgasming.

“Jeezy creezy, I’m sorry,” he said, in a normal tone of voice. Dirk propped himself up to peer down at Jake. “I gummed up all your plans to engage in some buddy-buddy jerking off. Hold on, I’ll apply a little elbow grease and we’ll be back on track.”

Jake tried to squirm away from Dirk in order to poke at his taint or whatever the fuck he did, but Dirk kept both of Jake’s hands on lockdown. Jake blinked at Dirk, wide eyed and curious.

“Nah,” said Dirk. “Don’t force it, dude. If you get another boner feel free to join me. Otherwise, if you want, you can watch.”

Jake quirked his head against the pillow, thinking. Softly, like he was afraid of breaking something, he said, “I’d like that.”

Dirk was hot and throbbing and sticky with his own slick, so he was relieved Jake agreed. He leaned off the side of the bed to grab one of the billion daggers he’d looted. He sat up on his knees and unsheathed it, rapidly, then paused to think about what he was doing. Jake was looking at the knife with interest.

“Uh, do you care if I cut your clothes off?” asked Dirk, sheepishly. “I’ve got more for you to wear.”

Jake winked. “Go right ahead, sweetheart.”

Not ideal, but whatever. Dirk wondered if he was making the right choice to continue on with this heavy petting makeout shit. He was too horny to care.

Making his motions as soft as he could, Dirk slit Jake’s shirt open down the middle, then sliced the elaborate sash off. He threw the knife aside, and stripped Jake with the efficiency and care of a surgeon who loved his work. He tried very hard not to be aroused by Jake’s naked body between his legs, by Jake pressed to the bed, by Jake’s slick, pierced cock. Jake seemed disappointed Dirk didn’t start ravishing him once they were both naked.

Dirk used Jake’s skirt to mop up Jake’s thighs. Dirk met him in a kiss when he gently cleaned Jake’s soft cock. Jake moaned into his mouth, but it was all for show. Dirk tossed the skirt aside when he was done, and the both of them were alone together in the nude.

Dirk crawled off of Jake and flopped onto his left side, since he figured it’d hurt too much to use his bandaged dominant hand to jerk off. He liked to get off by grinding himself against the heel of his palm anyway, so the non-dominance shouldn’t be a problem. It didn’t require much fine-tuned motor control to hump something.

Jake covered them both with the feather light blanket, pulled it up to their chins, and faced Dirk beneath the covers. He placed his hand on Dirk’s waist, and said, “Are you sure you don’t want help?”

“I’m sure,” said Dirk, and slipped his fingers inside himself, just for the feeling of being filled. “Hold me.”

“I can do that.”

Jake slid his arm between Dirk and the mattress, and wrapped his other around Dirk’s shoulders, and he pulled Dirk close into a tight hug. Dirk’s forearm brushed against Jake’s soft cock as he fingered himself. He was aching and open, and his fingers didn’t do much to sate the need to get fucked. He gave up, pulled out, and pressed his palm against his dick. He massaged himself there, trying to find the right spot, and the pressure was such a wonderful relief. It was like sinking into a hot water bath.

Beneath the covers, held by his love, and comfortably warm against the silk pillows, Dirk felt the seductive draw of sleep pull on him. Adrenaline kept him awake for the past 24 hours, but the feeling of safety, of having Jake with him, lulled him into a sweet comfort. It felt like he was in the midst of a wonderful wet dream. Dirk found a slow rhythm, pressing his palm into his dick and rotating his hips, and steady pleasure built up in his thighs like a melody.

Jake kept him awake. Staring at him with beautiful, dark, emerald eyes, he asked in a flat voice, “Are you really, really sure? I’d plumb love it if you told me what to do to you.”

“Just keep holding me,” Dirk hummed, sleep and arousal and love overtaking him.

“I’d _really_ like it if you indulged in my best assets. How can I keep you entertained if you don’t reveal your favorite parts about me?”

Jake slid his hand down the curve of Dirk’s ass, probably trying to reach around and finger him open. Dirk had the wherewithal to stop masturbating and snag Jake’s wrist before he got close.

“My favorite parts of you have nothing to do with sex,” said Dirk, gently. “I’ll keep telling you that until we fucking die, morning star.”

“But I-” stammered Jake, totally confused by himself and what he was feeling. His dick twitched against Dirk’s thigh. “I want to be yours?” 

Clarity shot through Dirk like a bullet, and he saw Jake’s tangled emotions about sex, and knew what to say to begin unweaving them. He pressed a soft kiss to Jake’s forehead. He made sure Jake was making full on eye contact with him before responding. Dirk’s tone was as sweetly commanding as he could make it.

“Your body doesn’t belong to your clients, or your mother, or your brothel, or your gods, or the captain of your ship. Your body doesn’t belong to your obligations, or your environment, or any other pressure that exists outside of you. Your body doesn’t belong to me, either. It is yours, and only yours, and what you choose to do with it isn’t up to me.”

Jake’s lips parted. He didn’t know what to say. Dirk pressed his palm between his legs again and massaged himself as he spoke, to try and assuage the ache.

“I know you’re lost right now. It's part of the price for being free. I’ll… I’ll try to guide you, okay? Just for a little while,” said Dirk, and ground against himself harder. “I want to help you be the best you can be. So let’s figure out what you enjoy doing in bed together, carefully, yeah?”

Jake nodded, slowly, not breaking eye contact with Dirk. He then took a sharp breath, like Dirk just made a shocking first-time love confession to him, and rushed in for a deep kiss. Dirk was warm all over, from the tip of his tongue inside Jake’s mouth to his whole body beneath the soft blanket. Jake gripped Dirk like he was drowning. Dirk’s knuckles brushed against Jake’s stiffening cock as he moved his palm. 

Dirk went at it harder, spurred on by the kiss. The static of arousal built up along his spine, and Dirk couldn’t reciprocate Jake’s passionate movements with the distracting pleasure in his body. Gasping, millimeters away from Jake’s lips, he thrust himself against his palm in violent, shaking motions. Orgasm came quick, and Jake held him through the long, silent shivers. 

When Dirk was finished, his muscles let go of all their aches, and all the fight rushed out of him. He wanted nothing more than to slip away into sleep in Jake’s arms. But Jake was fully erect, and staring at him with wide-awake eyes. Dirk blinked the sleep away to return Jake’s gaze.

“I, uh,” Jake said, quietly. “Okie dokie. I… I get why you’re staying chaste now. I get it. But could… could you touch me, please?”

Dirk figured it was fine, if Jake truly understood why it was important for him to learn how to have loving, attached sex. He scooted away from Jake an inch or two, just so he could see Jake’s expressions clearly, and then removed his hand from between his own legs and pressed it between Jake’s. 

Jake bit his lip, like he was trying to resist the urge to fake-moan. Dirk dragged the heel of his hand along Jake's cock. The curve of it fit perfectly along his entire hand span, from fingertip to the base of the wrist. He swirled his grip around it, traced the veins on the underside, the frenum piercing, then stroked the metal loop at the tip. Jake raised his eyebrow, cautious.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checkin' you out," said Dirk, and gave Jake a quick kiss. "Gettin' a lay of the land."

Dirk wrapped his hand tight around Jake, and started stroking. A couple pulls in and Jake winced, so Dirk stopped. He swallowed, and waited for Jake to voice his concerns. It took him a bit.

"Could you at the very least hawk in your hand? Your calloused palms are starting a fire down there."

"Sorry," said Dirk, embarrassed, and spit in his hand before resuming his grip. He slathered it all over Jake. "Admittedly I don't give handjobs very often."

"I can tell," said Jake, and winced again. "And loosen up a bit, bro. You're treating me like you're trying to hoist a sail."

Dirk did as instructed. "That better?"

"Well now you're barely even touching me."

"Uh, how about now?"

"Mmm," said Jake, and shut his eyes. He nestled into the pillow. His breathing changed, became more rapid, his lips parted a little. His eyelashes fluttered. His fingers dragged against Dirk's hips, like he was trying to hang onto something. Dirk figured that was a good sign. Jake seemed legitimately into it.

He paused his strokes to play with Jake's balls a little. Add some pizazz. Also they were like, pretty damn pleasant to hold.

Jake shifted against the pillow, and with a smile, grumbled, “You’re so friggin’ bad at this.”

Dirk raised an eyebrow. “This is my non-dominant hand, alright? Cut me some slack.”

“Nope! You’re just plain bad. You can’t simply stop after you find a rhythm just because you get distracted by parts beneath,” Jake chuckled. “And besides that, you’re going at it from a totally wrong angle. Every dick is a special unique flower, but with mine in particular you’re going to want to use all the grippy power at the base of your thumb there to squeeze along the cylindrical muscle at the front of my shaft!”

“Alright alright,” sighed Dirk, trying to fix his angle. He tweaked his wrist around in order to grip Jake in accordance with his instructions. He gave Jake a couple test strokes before asking, “How’s that?”

Jake hummed. “Peachy. But a little dry…”

Dirk spit in his palm again before resuming the grip. He gave a few, tentative pulls. Jake didn’t react in the negative, so Dirk continued. He found a rhythm: not too fast, not too slow, and resolved to stick to it. Dirk watched Jake’s lashes flutter, he watched how his shoulders squirmed, just a little, as Dirk stroked Jake. The boat rocked in the water, soothing and steady. Dirk heard the footsteps of his crewmates walking on the boards above his head, but could not hear their voices. Waves splashed gently against the porthole. They were out to sea. The down bedding held them like the warm, deep waters outside.

Jake’s mouth quivered, and he squeezed his eyes shut. A couple tears slipped out of his lashes, and Dirk immediately stopped moving. He didn’t remove his hand from Jake’s cock. He was frozen there, watching Jake cry in the morning sunlight.

“You’re so bad at handjobs!” Jake said, weeping. His eyes slit open, and they were sparkling green. “You’re _terrible,_ Dirk! You can’t do it at all!”

He wasn't crying over a bad handjob and they both knew it. It was just time for him to shed a few tears.

“Ah, handjobs, my one weakness,” said Dirk, and kissed Jakes lips, who couldn’t kiss back. He felt Jake’s cock soften in his grip, so he let go, and embraced him. He didn’t want to use his messy hand to wipe away Jake’s tears, so he kissed them away instead.

“You’re such a critical failure at it! In fact, this whole thing just fucking _sucked,_ it's the worst sex I've _ever_ had,” Jake continued sobbing. “But- But I like it anyway! I _love_ it, Dirk! I shouldn't but I _do_ and it's because- because-”

He hugged Jake closer, so their bodies were pressed to one another tight as can be. This only made Jake cry harder, his face scrunching up and his shoulders shuddering under Dirk’s grip. He pressed his forehead to Dirk’s.

“I love you,” Jake sobbed, tears streaming down his face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Dirk, softly.

Jake cried for a while. Not as hard as the night in his bed, nor as panicked as his sob-fests yesterday. They were gentle tears, the kind of tears shed when you’re letting go of something important. Dirk shut his eyes, and held Jake, and the waves rocked them both in a soothing rhythm. The sounds of the ocean grew louder than Jake’s sobbing, until Dirk could hear nothing but the shift of the water and the comforting creaking of a boat at sea. Finally. He drifted like a ship through calm waters.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Hmm?” said Dirk, his eyes snapping open.

Jake had totally stopped crying, at some point. His cheeks were dry, too. Did Dirk doze off? He sat up in bed, and rubbed his face.

“Sorry dude,” he said, trying to blink himself awake. His head was woozy. He felt warm and toasty and at peace, he wanted to snuggle up with Jake forever. “I stayed up all night. I should get up and walk around, I have shit to do.”

He tossed off the comforter, ignoring the absolute despair that rattled through his skin when he uncovered his body. He used Jake’s skirt to clean himself up. He’d prefer some fresh water, but this would have to do for now.

“C’mon, love,” said Jake, and touched Dirk’s back. “Don’t you want some rest?”

Dirk twisted around to look at Jake, who was propped up against the pillows, the blankets at his waist. He looked vulnerable, soft, like he’d just been fucked. Dirk was probably in the same state as him. They were lovesick. Yeah, his friends could manage just fine upstairs without him, for a while.

He slid back beneath the blankets, and returned to Jake’s arms. They settled together, in bed. The sunlight flickered across the room, made greenish by a tall wave here and there, like it was shining through a glass bottle. Feeling safe and content and happy, it was no problem at all to slip into a long deserved sleep.

He didn’t dream at all.

The room shimmered a deep orange when Dirk awoke. Jake was gone. He sat up, running his hands through his hair. He felt well rested and content, albeit a bit hungry. He must have slept the whole day away. No wonder Jake left the room.

He got dressed, and brushed his hair out with a comb encrusted in diamonds, before heading upstairs to the deck. There was an actual fucking door this time instead of a trapdoor like on the old _Black Diamond,_ and when he opened it, he banged it into someone’s legs. “Oh! Sorry!” said a cheerful voice, and she moved her feet out of the way so Dirk could exit.

Jade was sitting on the raised aft, swinging her legs over the door. Dirk blinked up at her.

“Why are you still hanging around?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Don’t you have like… important god things to do?”

“Nothing’s more important than systematically boning every single one of your crew members one by one,” said Jade, waggling her eyebrows. Dirk folded his arms, and Jade made a ‘pbbft’ noise at him. “C’mon, I haven’t gotten any action in five hundred years! Besides, you can’t judge! I saw that stupid-huge ring of hickeys on Jake’s neck!”

Jade pointed towards the bow, where Jake stood. He leaned against the rail, both elbows on the wood, staring off into the horizon. He wore Dirk’s clothes, which were baggy on him. He had the collar popped to try and mask the apparent bruises, but this didn’t help at all because one side kept slipping off his shoulder. John was still around too, and was talking to him, but Jake didn’t seem to be listening.

“Well how ‘bout that,” said Dirk, a little embarrassed, and trotted over to Jake. He stopped midway to ruffle Vriska’s hair— she was leaning against the mainmast and directing Feferi to tap one of the barrels of wine they stole. Guess they were getting crunk tonight. She made a smarmy comment about how sleeping beauty decided to wake up, huh, but Dirk was on a mission and couldn’t engage in any banter.

John waved hello to Dirk, then promptly floated to the stern to hang out with Jade. He sensed Dirk wanted a moment alone. Jake didn’t move, he continued to stare at the empty ocean. Dirk found it interesting that Jake was watching the sun set, the rays of pink and orange dancing across the waters, instead of watching his country fade away from sight. Aetria was still in view on the aft horizon, just barely. 

Dirk pressed his hand to the small of Jake's back. Jake didn't stir. So Dirk slid up next to him, and used his bandaged hand to tilt Jake's chin, and he pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to Jake's lips. He hoped the butterflies he got would never fade.

“Hey, morning star,” whispered Dirk. “Sorry I slept in.”

Jake scanned his face with an unreadable expression. Carefully, like he was requesting a heavy favor, he asked, “Can I get a tattoo?”

“Yeah dude,” said Dirk, surprised. Maybe Jake was thinking about this for a couple hours. A sign to show he was free to make his own choices? The first step of getting autonomy, of figuring himself out? “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Jake said, almost a whine. “You pick.”

Dirk didn’t feel comfortable doing that quite yet. Maybe later. He rubbed Jake’s back. “C’mon, you’ve got to have some ideas of what you want.”

Jake bit his lip. It took him a while to respond, like the whole ship would explode if he didn’t say the right thing.

"What about a skull on my shoulder? And I want it really rough-and-tumble like it's on fire and snakes are crawling out of its eyes and it's resting on a pile of guns. Or a beautiful nudie blue lady pinup on my arm? I want her really dewy-moist looking and I want her to have humongous bazongas," said Jake, thinking really hard about it. "Also it'd be nice if you'd tattoo your name on the knuckles of my right hand and then I could get my own name on my left hand."

"Those are the tackiest ideas I've ever heard," said Dirk, deeply impressed. "I love you."

Jake stared at Dirk wide-eyed, like he never expected Dirk to say those words ever again. To Dirk’s surprise, Jake pushed on Dirk’s chest, caught his ankle with his boot, and dipped Dirk in the rays of the sunset. Beams of warm light flickered around them in a halo, and Jake kissed Dirk like the hero in a romance novel. The kiss did not last as long as they would have liked, as they were interrupted by Roxy and Nepeta cheering and Vriska yelling, “Hey! Stop making out and help us fucking _party!”_

They all lit glass lanterns as the sun set beneath the clear horizon. Because none of them were fucking normal people, they only grabbed lanterns with tinted glass, so the whole deck was lit with red and orange and purple and blue. It added something to the atmosphere, celebrating the joy of freedom and victory. They all broke open the fine wines and liquors they stole, and drank into the night. Dirk sat against the mainmast, and watched with utter contentment as all his friends enjoyed themselves. Karkat and Roxy and Nepeta and Jake played an uproarious game of cards while snacking on caviar someone looted. Jade talked astronomy with Sollux. John and Feferi had a paper airplane folding competition (John won). Aradia brought out her guitar and had Jake join her in a couple drunken folksy jams. Vriska and Equius had a playful, three hour long argument over who would get command of the wheel from now on. Jake sat on Dirk’s lap when he got tipsy, and threw his arms around Dirk’s shoulders and leaned his head against Dirk’s, and Dirk felt him glow.

As they were wont to do, the night eventually cumulated in a drunken singalong. Together, beneath the stars, they gathered on deck, and Aradia strummed some chords. They all sang off-key and too-loud and collapsed into laughter far too often to make a coherent melody. 

And, as always, it was the best music in the world.

* * *

_to the tune of Botany Bay_

[[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/track/5JCKY6uKakNtWJ0QUIAebJ)] [[youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7u_zPA25hQ)]

* * *

One-two-three-four…

**Farewell to your bricks and mortar**  
**Farewell to your boring dives**  
**Farewell to your houses and your careers**  
**And to hell with your normal lives**  
**For the good ship Black Diamond 2**  
**She's sailing far from port**  
**To take old pals and some awesome new friends**  
**To the shores of Velvet Court**

Well, I’m so glad you saved my sis’  
And got some sweet revenge  
I’m happy to be with you  
I love you all so much!  
So I thought I’d bang my rescuers  
Before I make more friends  
We’re taking a trip on the Black Diamond ship  
To the shores of Velvet Court

**Farewell to your bricks and mortar**  
**Farewell to your boring dives**  
**Farewell to your houses and your careers**  
**And to hell with your normal lives**  
**For the good ship Black Diamond 2**  
**She's sailing far from port**  
**To take old pals and some awesome new friends**  
**To the shores of Velvet Court**

And it’s great we got some new crew  
I said, “Well, Jake, y’know  
If you were less totes pathetic  
I’d love to have you go” (TAKE IT JAKE!)  
Uhhhhhhh I’ve just been put on the spot  
And I don’t know what to sing?  
So I’m telling you straight that I’m gonna emigrate  
To the shores of Velvet Court

**Farewell to your bricks and mortar**  
**Farewell to your boring dives**  
**Farewell to your houses and your careers**  
**And to hell with your normal lives**  
**For the good ship Black Diamond 2**  
**She's sailing far from port**  
**To take old pals and some awesome new friends**  
**To the shores of Velvet Court**

And when we reach Velvet Court  
We’ll present all our Kings  
We’ll drink an absurd fucking amount  
... That’ll be a thing  
I might make some poor decisions  
But I’ll never lose my way  
For I’ve got a morning star who wont be far  
On the shores of Velvet Court

**Farewell to your bricks and mortar**  
**Farewell to your boring dives**  
**Farewell to your houses and your careers**  
**And to hell with your normal lives**  
**For the good ship Black Diamond 2**  
**She's sailing far from port**  
**To take old pals and some awesome new friends**  
**To the shores of Velvet Court**

**To take old pals and some awesome new friends**  
**To the shores of Velvet Court**

 

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates! What was your favorite part? Your favorite song? What did you take away from it? I enjoyed all your comments and engagement throughout the whole fic, thank you for your awesome encouragement! I can't wait to hear what you think about the ending! 
> 
> Onto the end of fic gallery!
> 
> **DVD EXTRAS**  
> [Official fic OST](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2rGodNqrKh47U5Fl3uxp03) (all the fic songs in one spotify playlist! the songs that are youtube only were replaced with the closest versions I could find)  
> [Official fic FST](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4GEVA4oMhYWmLrqeEVZqRW) ("guilty pleasure" themed)  
> I have some bonus artwork on my [Four Kings tumblr tag](https://oxfordroulette.tumblr.com/tagged/the-four-kings)
> 
> **FANWORK GALLERY**  
> [An _incredible_ cover of Stolen Away, in case you missed it in-fic!](https://soundcloud.com/user-164451249-876778272/stolen-away-cover)  
> [A bunch of incredibly dope Four Kings character shots](https://thedoublepp.tumblr.com/post/183949402106/look-at-all-this-fanart-wow-and-some-wip-sketches)  
> [Some fabulous pics of Jake and Vriska](https://ups-my-hand-slipped.tumblr.com/post/185366221863/the-four-kings-the-god-thief-and-the-black)  
> [Incredible ilustration of the "Jake having a breakdown in bed" part](https://ups-my-hand-slipped.tumblr.com/post/185989888918/the-four-kings-the-god-thief-and-the-black)  
> A ton of SUPER RAD doujin shots from scenes in the fic!!!: [[x](https://libertasforte.tumblr.com/post/187521949357/i-started-reading-a-homestuck-fantasy-pirate-au)] [[x](https://libertasforte.tumblr.com/post/187742825852/another-scene-from-oxfordroulettes-the-four)] [[x](https://libertasforte.tumblr.com/post/187812363982/towards-the-end-of-the-four-kings-the-four-pirate)] [[x](https://libertasforte.tumblr.com/post/187812365137/yeah-vriska-was-really-just-like-that-wasnt-she)] [[x](https://libertasforte.tumblr.com/post/187812365987/no-fuck-it-all-this-shit-about-goodness-and)] [[x](https://libertasforte.tumblr.com/post/187888392367/jane-from-oxfordroulettes-the-four-kings-chapter)]  
> [HUGE CONDY TITTIES (NSFW)](https://twitter.com/smallbirdypal/status/1173916010392543233)
> 
> Let me know if you make anything! I'd love to see it!
> 
> My next AO3 task will be to work on, of course, [FRIENDFICTION](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663271/chapters/44260441), so look forward to that. After that, I've actually got a lot of non-fanfic projects lined up, and trust me, you WON'T be disappointed when you find out what they are. (one of which is [Necromancy Nancy,](http://www.playnecromancynancy.com/) which I'm not actually writing but I AM helping plot it, so if you like how wild and dark shit gets in my fics, you'll probably like this bi-weekly updating visual novel)


End file.
